Hate is a Terrible Way to Live

Let's talk about hate.  Unfortunately, there's too much to say about it.

When I was a little girl, I hated the girl who stole my new Nifty notebook.  Nifty was a brand name - not just a neat notebook.  It had the holes for the paper at the top in a plastic snap-on cover that also had room to store your freshly-sharpened pencil so the point wouldn't get broken on the long ride home on the school bus.

I also hated certain foods - just like any kid.

But I never REALLY hated anything or anybody - it was only a figure of speech to me then.  Today, things have changed.  People hate for many reasons.  Who do you hate?  Why do you hate them?  Do you really hate them or do you just dislike them?

I can honestly say that I don't hate anyone I know now or have ever known, although my step-mother comes awfully close.  Truth be told, I hated the way she treated my father, and I hated the way she treated me, but I still do not hate her.  Thank you, Sweet Jesus!

There are some old friends who hate me, and I have no idea why.  The only thing I have been told is that I lied and used them.  I was told I need to see a psychiatrist, and in fact, a link for one near me was left on a blog once.  I have been blocked from following on Twitter.  Can you believe anyone could hate that much?  I am not allowed to comment on their writing, which I would only have done if it was an exceptional piece in the first place.  I have been blocked from sending emails and threatened with harassment.

It has been eight months now, and I know no more than I did the day I got the email.  I have cried many many tears, missed many hours of sleep (which comes to me at a premium anyway), and I have done anything and everything I can think of to find out why.  They hate me so much they won't even tell me why. That's really sad.

I am thankful that I don't hate them in return.  I thank God that His grace provides a solace from the lonely times I have when I miss them so much.  Could we ever be friends again?  No, even if they were willing, I would not put myself back into the same position again.  What is the old saying?  Fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, shame on me.

I would like to have the opportunity to apologize to them for whatever it was that I did, or for what they think I did.  I don't think I would even try to explain whatever I did that caused them to feel that way.  I think I would just ask their forgiveness for wronging them.  Then I think I would be able to go on with my life - such as it is.  I am happy with my life.  Even my inferiority complex does not get in my way as much as it did a few years ago. 

I try so hard to not let it bother me, but I cannot lie to myself.  It does bother me - it bothers me tremendously.  I know there is nothing I can do that will make it better, but I can't help wondering what I did. 

I suppose I always will.