Hate

Hate; my lover, my mistress, my whore, my nemesis my child.

Me.

I know this hate, know it well. I have known it for all time, it is a universal thing, one that besets us all. A parasite, one that does not take from the host, but one that gives to it, feeds the host. Feeds it. I shall ne'er go where hate is absent, and shall ne'er go where hate is all consuming. She likes to dance, on the line, with the precision of a scalpel, and the madness of he who wields it.

She is quite beautiful; however, moreso in the absence of others.

The bitch likes you alone.

Unlike the Doctor, I'm not going to wander in that direction.

Hate is one of the few negative things that I don't really feel. I can't demonize someone enough to get to that point.

I would just prefer that those individuals stay away, and as long as they stay away things are fine. There's no active hate or even dislike for the most part. I'm usually sickened by them and idly wonder how they can sleep at night. It takes a lot to get to me to that point with someone though.

If they come close, I cannot be held responsible for my actions. [For I always give more than fair warning about the risk of those people coming close. I won't be pleasant to deal with.]