if i could just hate you

Love and hate are two sides of the same coin. With love, there is no hate; without love, there comes hate. They complement, made complete and perfect each other. Love becomes hatred when love is nowhere to be found, the love-hate relationship.

Relationships do not end well most of the time. One would try to mend the broken heart but when all means fail, the attempts, efforts and sacrifices made only act to fuel the hatred. Words are suddenly being hurled around; names are being called; and feelings are still being exchanged, only this time it is hatred.

Both eventually went on their separate ways; feeling disgusted with their old self for falling in love with the one once considered their soul mate, their destiny. They vow not to cross path again, everything has comes to an end and put to rest. All communication ceases.

Everything we did, every action, behavior, thoughts and feelings has to have a meaning attached to it, a reason, or an explanation. No one wants to be a fool. We lied to ourselves if we must, so that we could drown in another emotion if we have to.

Hatred makes it easier; hatred reduces the pain and makes the pain a little more bearable. Hatred is a justification for the intense emotion we once felt, love could be so vivid and striking that we need a stronger, an emotion of higher intensity to bury the old affection. We just want and desire to forget.

It is easier to remember than to forget; it is easier to cling on than to let go; just like it is easier to blame others than to look in ourselves. Feelings will fade once we decided to loosen our grips; time will heal almost every damn wound. It will heal despite leaving a scar.

There will be a time when you do not even remember the trigger for the unfortunate cascade of events that follows. That is the funny bit, we forgot what we were fighting for in the first place; we just lost ourselves in the midst of battle where we just too busy defending ourselves. Hurting others is better than being hurt.

Old wounds from the past hit us in the balls, the very part hurts the most when you least expect it.

When there is no hatred, is there any love in the past? Promises were left as promises, never to be accomplished.