Hate!

I don't know much about hatred. What a lie! I know a good deal about it from experience at least, and after reading the latest confession (and ensuing comments) on Call the Angels, it seems to me that most people are just as well-acquainted with hatred as I am. That post is an oasis of ill will among friends of mine who are, in almost every other context, generally lovely individuals. We all get together to watch bad movies; we huddle around someone's laptop to look at photographs; we cram for tests and debate socio-political issues--but rarely do we discuss our hatred for certain people (unless they are people whom it is fashionable to dislike). In a way, this is noble, because we learned long ago that badmouthing our friends behind their backs was obnoxious and unwise.

But I noticed a funny trend in the aforementioned post and comments: we all feel guilty about hating people. Talking about it makes us uncomfortable (some more than others, of course). I get ticked off at my friends quite frequently, and for relatively particular reasons; I would never hire a hit man, but an exorcist. For this I feel, as many others apparently do, like a bad person. Hardly ever would I try to justify one of my hate-episodes to someone else. But why am I so disposed to loathe my friends when it makes me feel bad about myself? Why do other people apparently have the same problem?

Well, here goes. We're all complicated individuals who have a lot of crap to deal with--so much, in fact, that it would take ages to explain it all to a friend. There's a lot of stuff in my life (ranging from the petty to the not-so-petty) that most of my friends don't know about, and the longer I go in a friendship without talking about it, the harder it becomes to broach the subject. Why haven't I told you all my super dark secrets (and why haven't you, in all likelihood, told me yours)? Let's be honest: we have stuff to do. There are homework and college apps to finish, and family problems to sort out, and concerts to go to and movies to see. Every once in a while there is free time, a lethargic delirium that we don't know what to do with. So frankly, who has time anymore to listen to a friend's problems and actually give a shit (unless it is one of those really good Spock-Kirk friendships, of which I think almost everybody has one or two)?

I call many people "friends," but most of them I don't know all that well, and neither do they know me. So when I'm in a bad mood, or poopy things are happening in my life, my interactions with those friends are spoiled. I look at them talking and cracking inside jokes and nibbling away at their own goals and I think, "Who the fuck are you, anyway? Why are we sitting at the same table when you don't know the first thing about my life?" This won't necessarily make me start to hate one of my friends, but if the seed of minor annoyance is already there, then this new dimension--the superficiality of our friendship--will cause it to germinate.

Now, this claim that I've been making, that you have to grow up with me or otherwise know all about me in order to be spared my wrath, is a little harsh. An easier substitute: yell at me when I'm obnoxious, which sometimes I am. I know that I'm a bad listener, and that I'm flaky and never get stuff done on time, and that I butt into conversations at random moments saying "What? Who are we talking about?" Call me on it. Sure, I'll be disgruntled with you for the next day or so, but then we will have gained a new level of intimacy and I'll be less disposed to hate you at a later date. Just think of it like Star Trek! Without Spock vs. Kirk, there would have been no Spirk.