People often talk about giving up your hate. They make it sound so easy because for them it is easy. For others it is impossible. Our hatred keeps us warm and lets us know we are still alive, even though we have died a little inside. We died and then came back to life by the burn of life. That is living to me. That is all I know.
You give up your hate if it gives you joy. I will hold onto mine like an umbrella in the night. A shield against those falling objects they call stars and those dreams that seem so far… away.
I raise my umbrella to the world and carry my hatred underneath it. Sheltering my pain from the happiness of the world, do not bring your joy inside of here. Keep your laughter while I hold my pain. My anger, my rage, and my hatred. Let me be warm just once and finally know the glow of acceptance. The kind of acceptance you receive when you accept yourself.
Giving up hate would be giving up a piece of me. I can do it, but I would be less from it. What I must decide is if you deserve that much of me. Do I owe you that much space in my heart to allow you to own my hate.
I don’t know the answer to that. I just know what I feel. I feel hatred still and I feel anger as I write our story. I want to finish our story so I never have to write about you again. So I can bury you at last.