Humans tend to anthropomorphize certain aspects of themselves in order to give greater weight and clarity as they attempt to convey their emotions. We picture our moods as individuals, their features often contorted so extensively to show what we, their owners, cannot. They have a liberty of expression that we deny ourselves because we deem it to theatrical, and then we build art and industry around that very ideal.
It is in this manner that I have come to you to talk about hate.
It is with some personal pride that many do not consider me a hateful person. It is certainly not a matter of fate that I have come to be like this. I have spent a long time separating myself from that particular component of my personality. Hate was once a tall thing in me. Surely, you know some relative of the one I know. Their skin, regardless of its color, glows with the kind of heat that fills your scorned cheeks. It is pulled tight over bone and sinew in the way that yours is pulled over the knuckes of your clenching fist. There is no joy in their expression. Often, there is visible lack of focus but at times, it is just the opposite, the miles of future action already laid out in their eyes. But hate is ever-present. You may be reviewing it now, like running your fingers over a superstitious trinket in your pocket, impossible to discard. Don't fool yourself: To become without hate is truly an insurmountable obstacle.
And for good reason: It's too useful a tool.
Hate is the result of an ethical consideration that we have made at some point in our lives. We have found a certain potential reality undesirable and any gravity towards that reality becomes just that: undesirable. So we take measures to counteract it. We lightly tap the shoulder of that powerful entity, we whisper instruction, and we watch the degree by which they are able to change the world.
Now, mind you, hate alone is not powerful, despite what you've been told. Hate needs other things to enact change. Often it is paired with fear or ignorance, each serving to blind it to anything that might stop it. Its destruction becomes infectious, magnifying the damage, jumping from person to person, engulfing communities, nations, species. Fear and Ignorance and Hate, in this manner, become Harbingers of Cataclysm.
Editor's Note, weeks later: I can't remember where I was going with this and frankly, I'm too tired to try and reclaim it. The essence was that I was attempting to reach out to the emotions that I were collectively referring to as 'hate' in this entry and applying it to productive means, like a hate of inefficiency or misunderstanding, etc. The experiment was not successful, for a variety of reasons. I didn't take anything productive from it, but this journal wouldn't exist if I just pretended like things didn't happen because I was ashamed of them.
As a personal update, things are still in a state of high flux. I started on a new set of medication last week: Vyvanse and Dexedrine. They've been productive in their way, but there's definitely been a large falloff in how I feel it's affecting me positively. It is not, at least noticeably, affecting me negatively yet, so I intend to continue with it. I'm still taking Remeron for anti-anxiety and while it's effective, I don't like how severely it knocks me out, so I may switch.
Not like there aren't things to be anxious about. I'm still constantly mulling about climate change and overfishing and power distribution, etc. Very real problems that I feel like I can't do anything about, partly because I chose a different educational path and partly because even if I discover and recommend changes, it's to a world that doesn't understand and likely wouldn't care. It's a terrible feeling.
Some friends of mine had a child three months ago. I met him on Friday. My best friend in high school has a twelve year old boy now. I can't stop envisioning the world I'm leaving them by not doing more to stop what I know is likely to happen.