The People that Make Me Hate Them

I am absolutely sure that I’m gonna be labeled a certified ‘Jackass’ or a ‘Retard’ after people read this post of mine. But it really doesn’t matter to me now. Fuck it, as if it mattered then. Who makes me hate them? Well, honestly, everyone does it these days. So who is the one I am talking about today? You really wanna know? Come ‘on, don’t you fool yourself, you really don’t give a shit about who do I hate. All you are concerned about is whether you are the one who’s being talked about here. Well to answer that, yes, I hate you. But hard luck, you are not the protagonist here.

I hate my parents. Yes I hate them. And I am gonna accept the fact that I do. Why? Not because they are my parents, not because they did not rear me well, not because they did not buy me gifts, not because they did not allow me to choose my career, but because, I just hate them. I was always under the false impression that I had the best parents in the whole wide world, the bestest of best one can ever imagine getting (Though, I am sure each one of us think the same, contrary to the universal truth). They always taught me the best of things they could, the traditions, the customs of life and culture. But they never taught me to discriminate between high and low, between the man and man. I was always told, all men are equal, they carry equal respect, and that shit about equality of castes and religion that’s written over and over again in those fifty-thousand-pages-long mighty shithole book. I was always reared under the pretention that there is only one cadre of men, and that is Human. They lied. Eventually, when I grew up to like someone from the same flock of Humans, they brought up the classification of high and low, of rich and poor, of men and supermen. They now drew margins of caste, religion, money, power and social respect between their own canvas they once painted with the color of equality. She is not at par with our standard and social being, they say today. Fuck it, and fuck you, I say. You should have told me that long before, so I should have not loved her then. Now what do I tell her? How do I explain that I cannot keep up my promises because she is poor? That I cannot live up to her expectations because she belongs to a different caste or sect? That I lied to her that I love her unconditionally, even when there are conditions that are put up on me? Fuck you Parents.

I hate her. Yes, her too. Though she seems to be the sweetest and kindest girl in the world I could find, I hate her for being her. She never tries to accept and understand, or even acknowledge my situation. And even if she does, she fails miserably. She loves me bluntly, and blindly, in spite of all the odds against us, knowing that I may not be able to fulfill some, or rather all her dreams, ever. I hate that love in her eyes, which doesn’t vanish or dissolve, even after gallons of tears that outflow at least twenty times a day (all thanks to me). I hate her because she never makes a single effort to prevent those tears from flowing off her eyes. In fact, she is always looking for reasons to moisten her cheeks and later, blame it on me (though I must confess that I am genuinely involved most of the time, but there are a few occasions where I am like: What? Really? Why? How? Err!! Ah? Arghh??!!). But most of all, I hate her for not even attempting to realize that I love her too, and she is not the only one who is making all the sacrifices in the world, that she is not the first and the only lover in this world. She thinks that she is the only one in problems – the damsel in distress, like the usual customs. And yet after everything that is said and done, she loves me more than herself (at least, that’s what she says to me – although it’s slightly difficult to believe completely owing to the fact, that I have got a chance to read through several of her letters and email and text messages depicting her anger and inner emotions), that makes me hate her even more.

And above all, I hate myself. Not surprisingly, I hate myself the most, because in spite of all the hatred I have for people, I can’t stop loving them. I hate myself, because I cannot make a choice. And who would wanna make that choice? How can I choose between her and them? How can I drain off one of the two, completely from my heart? One who gave me birth, brought me up and made me; and other who borne me and showed me what life was all about? How do you prefer your one kidney over the other, or one eye over the other? And to add, I hate them and her because both force me to make a choice between the two. It makes me feel like the rope in this tug-of-war, and Fuck! I am tired of it now. I hate myself because I cannot take a decision, of when to love and when not, where to love and where not, of whom to love and whom not. I also hate myself because I have lost control, over my life, my heart, and my soul too. I am diabolically inspired, living my life like a zombie, waiting for its shitty end to come, hoping it would be better than the present, not realizing or attempting what can be changed to make it better, or at least ‘livable’. I have deserted all hopes, abandoned my life as unchangeable, only waiting for it to end. And I fucking hate this.