The Hate in my Heart
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I don’t like to hate people. It feels wrong. Yet, I find myself hating people that I don’t agree with. Not everyone I disagree with, but the vocal set of them. Hate is something that I had while I was a much younger man. I ran off it. Rage at the world that I felt was so unfair and uninterested in noticing me. As I grew, I grew to let go of that hate because it wore me out. I didn’t see a point in wasting so much energy on stuff I couldn’t change.
Now, I don’t see a point in being that pragmatic anymore.
I’m tired of boot-licking, racist, sexist, homophobe assholes who are actively trying to hurt people, innocent people all in the name of power and money. The current crop of Nazis in power want to do everything they can to tear away any vestige of public-ownership of organizations, and therefore any governmental safeguards that protect those who are marginalized and hurt the most by bigoted shit-eaters like Trump and Company.
I hate Trump. I hate him and his goons. I hate that half the country have somehow decided that instead of a government by and for the people, it should be by and for oligarchs and monopolists. Fuck them. I hate them, too. Too stupid to understand that they voted against their self-interests, too stupid to realize that this unchecked hatred and bigotry serves their corporate overlords and only hurts the “enemy” by proxy. The fact that they see half the fucking country as “enemies” because they aren’t gender-confirming or originally from here (spoilers: no one here was “from here” except the oft oppressed native population). Fuck them.
No one wants to listen to me, so it doesn’t matter. I’m done trying to be nice about this. Fuck these people. We the people deserved so much better.