Anaphora of Hate

a couple or more years back i wrote a little piece called "Anaphora of Hate". a handful of people might've read it, because i also included it in my mockazine "Jack". the peice is inspired by everything i hate during those times, and by a lot of things i was currently reading those times, plus the fact that i hate myself. here is the original text of that piece, if you're interested...

I hate Christmas, it just reminds me that I’m poor and have nothing to spend. But then again, Jesus was born poor; he was born in a manger.

I hate mornings. The sun hurts my eyes and I want to sleep ‘til noon, but I have to work and wake up early.

I hate to hear complains except my own. I hate it when people walk around doing this and that. I hate it when they make you feel useless and whine that they can’t get any help from you.

I hate cold, limp French fries and melted ice cream, but I still eat them even if they’re cold, limp or melted. I hate warm beers and glacial coffee.

I hate it want someone is so greedy they want everything for themselves. I hate it when people regard you as their slaves like you’re part of their property. They make you do all the things that they should be doing and then act like they have done you a big favor by making you a useful person.

I hate it when your neighbors and relatives meddle with your own affairs. They closely guard you and see what you’ve done or if you’re doing anything at all. They’d spread word that you just bum around the house, and what a very useless piece of junk you are. I hate it when your kin act as if they’re concerned with your welfare, but the truth is that they can’t wait to see you torment and decompose. I hate it when the very person that destroys you is one of you.

I hate it when you ant to be left alone then all the people around you become nosy. I hate nosy people, why can’t they just mind their own businesses? I hate people who barge into someone else’s private and personal life yet they can’t get their own lives straight.

I hate it when somebody eyes you with suspicion as if every move you make would violate the Ten Commandments, or the Family Code or even the Laws of Gravity. They’d act like they’re some kind of living saint, pointing out to you that you’re doing something wrong. You can’t accuse them of anything or tell them all the things they’ve done (or doing) is wrong. Because by then you’d be the one who’d appear to be a saint.

I hate it when you’ve got everything well planned then something, or worse, everything goes wrong. That’s the thing about life, when you’ve got everything well figured out the wires short circuit, go bonkers and blow up.

I hate it when you’ve got to work early in the morning and you can’t sleep because of insomnia. I hate it when you’re in a bad mood, wallowing in pain, or if you got up on the wrong side of the bed and people ask you what’s wrong. They’d tell you you’re not like that because you are a sunny, happy and funny person. FUCK! Don’t have I the right to feel bad? Do I have to always crack jokes, laugh and smile perpetually? Hell! I’m made of flesh and blood and not with sugar and cream.

I hate it when the things you believe in are the same things that would make you cynical. I hate it when life drags you by the hair and pull you, yank you to the ground, swing you in the air, wag you around and just throw you inside a pit.

I hate it when you’ve learned to like somebody and suddenly they have to go away. I hate it when you have to part ways with somebody you have learned to love. I hate goodbyes and to avoid it I should learn not to “say hello”.

I hate it when you learn that you are the same person you despise. I hate it when people seem to like you but really doesn’t. They hate your guts and just pretend that they like you. There’s nothing more I hate than phoniness and hypocrisy.

I hate it when your hopes are fading and soon you won’t have any to hold on to. It’s like walking in a long, cold, soggy, dark tunnel and there’s no light at the end of it. What’s worse is that you have reached the end and there’s a grate made of thick metal—you can’t get out. You can’t go back neither because you are lost, you are trapped!

I hate it when your time is running out and you still haven’t accomplished anything. You’re still thinking of what to do when the bell rings and you have to show your work. And all you’ve got is a blank sheet of paper.

I hate it when people judge you by your looks, the clothes that you wear, your educational attainment, people you hang out with, the schools you’ve attended, the things you own, the people you know… and regard you as an incompetent. I hate prejudgment, I hate stigma. I hate it when they do that because it lowers down one’s self-esteem further down below zero degrees. I hate it when life gives you a good time for two minutes, and give you hell for a millennium. I hate it when time goes by so fast when you’re enjoying and really slow when you’re waiting.

I hate it when I feel good about myself then by the time I look in the mirror the illusion shatters as the mirror does. I hate looking in mirrors because it just reminds me how bad I look, and every time I look in all I see is the face of a loser.

I hate it when you have to be civilized around people you abominate. You just want to run screaming because you can’t contain your fury anymore. I hate it when you can’t express what’s on your mind because people just might hate you. But then again, who are they anyway?

I hate it when people abuse you because you are generous to a fault, which makes you a stupid idiot. I also hate it when some people have much more than they need and some have none—like myself. I hate it when the bad ones prosper and the good ones suffer. You’ve worked hard and fair, you tried your best to be good and do no harm to your fellowmen, and those who do the exact opposite are the ones who prosper.

I hate myself sometimes, actually, most of the time because I’m such a sore loser.

I hate being called nice because I know that I’m not. And I hate it when people seem nice to me just because they feel that it’s their moral obligation. You are not obliged to be good to me. I would prefer to be smashed on the head than to be smiled at if that’s what you truly want to do. You can be honest with me because I really couldn’t stand hypocrisy.

I hate Barney, the purple dinosaur. If ever I have kids I wouldn’t let them watch any of those videos.

I hate being asked why am I like this and that. I don’t have to explain myself. Hell! I couldn’t comprehend what’s going on inside my brain, what makes you think you can?

I hate Pepsi blue soda. I don’t believe that it’s cola, 7-up with blue coloring maybe, I am a Coke addict.

I hate basketball.

I hate it when people tell me “I’d call you later” and they don’t. don’t say that you’d call if you wouldn’t. I understand that I’m not a priority, but please understand that I’m expecting a call from you because you said you would call. I don’t mind the wait, I just really hate it when people make me wait on false hopes.

I hate prudes. I hate to be branded. I hate to be compared to anybody, I am my own self. And be fair, the other person might be insulted to be compared to a loser like me.

I’m tired of hating but I can’t help it, because there’s not much things for me to love anymore.