Hatred outlives the hateful.

   A few years back I attended my first pride parade right outside of boston with a girl I was seeing at the time. While we marched, I noticed a man from my home country on the sidewalk. He stood there shaking his head at the procession, half laughing in ridicule, in disbelief. I made eye contact, waved and called out to him. I think he just shook his head again. 

    Today I recalled that memory and had the thought, the feeling “I hate him”. It’s not his fault, he’s a product of his environment, his upbringing, everything that happened to his forefathers and mothers before him. It makes sense for him to be the way he is. He’s probably a decent guy all things considered. I hate him. I don’t want to hate anyone, it’s not something I believe in. I want to be the kind of person who has compassion for even my worst enemies, I think often I can be, and am that person. 

  Today however, I hate him, I HATE all my countrymen, I often lie or hesitate to tell people where I’m from, giving a general vague answer. I hate them and the way they treated me, I hate christianity too, it took my sister away from me, it took my family away. 

   In the midst of my current downward spiral, I’ve gone and gotten myself another bad touch. Not anywhere as severe as the other ones that took place, quite minor if anything. Yet still, it’s fucking me up. Bad timing, I’m already feeling closer and closer to the edge of it all. 

  There’s a card in magic the gathering called ‘Rancor’. It enchants other cards, namely creatures. Basically, rancor makes the creature real angry, causing it to do “excess” damage to whatever it’s attacking. With the right conditions and number of cards, rancor can just keep making creatures angrier and more damaging as the game goes on, even beyond an original one creature. It can sort of be passed on in this way. On the card there is the flavor text,(a quote that usually has no effect on what the card does) “Hatred outlives the hateful.”

I think a lot about rancor, my feelings towards my home, my own origins, and how that hatred moves beyond the specific people and conditions I would blame for things, and somehow turns its way back on to me. 

Hatred outlives the hateful 

hatred outlives.

Afternoon light as the sun sets, Im making pasta for my neighbors as they’ve both not eaten. I love feeding them. It’s a bit macabre but I was telling one of them today, I’d love it if they made soup from my bones and all sat around a campfire enjoying it. She had jokingly asked “can I gnaw on your bones” as I instructed her that I’d like to be cremated and don’t want a funeral should things come to that. 

I’m sitting in my broken chair, watching the water boil. Everything in my apartment is quiet, somber. The dramatic orange lighting gives everything an otherworldly quality, precisely what I’m afraid of. 

Hatred outlives the