I don’t think I have the capacity to hate. Sure, there are folks that I don’t care for. I find myself staying away from places they may frequent but hate? No, I just don’t have it in me to do that. There have been times that I thought I had hate. I carried anger in my pocket so I might wield it like a sword but it didn’t last. Anger slips through my fingers when I remember my own mistakes. Anger makes me feel guilty for casting judgment.
Anger wells up inside me when I see others begging for sympathy. I don’t know why. Weakness angers me. Cries for pity make my blood boil. I’m sure my Shrink could spend hours delving into that one.
Something terrible happened to me as a teen. Do I hate him? No, I pity him. Is this strange?
I don’t like anger. I don’t like hate. I wish to keep them at bay. I avoid situations where they may arise.