Okay, something I really needed to get out of me. When I was online yesterday, a friend of mine came to chat with me.
His first words were, "Hannah's mom is dead"
Not exactly a great way to start a conversation. >.>
But I was struck by how unsettled it made me and I asked him to change the topic. Then, I got off my laptop and began to think about it.
The truth is, I never did like Hannah. I didn't passionately hate her like I hated some of my 'so-called' friends in my old school. But out of all of them, she was the most decent. (and Emily who was just a dear)
These people who I thought were friends abandoned me. They wouldn't talk to me, sit with me...fuck, sometimes they didn't even look me in the eye. And they insulted me behind my back. For the longest time going, I hated them. I hated myself because I couldn't understand why they had just left me behind. Did I do something wrong? I would wonder.
This was in boarding school, so I was a long way away from home. I hated her and I hated them. I hated the way they treated me and I wished I could hurt them the same way they hurt me.
...So, when I found out that Hannah's mom was dead, I started crying. Hannah who I hated because she hurt me, then she hurt my best friend over and over again and made him cry and even after all that abuse, he still went back to her and she still treated him like crap. I wanted to hurt her.
But...was this what I had in mind?
I told my dad what happened to her and I told him I hated her.
Dad: So then she got what she deserved, right?
Me: ....I suppose...
And I went back to my room and started crying, even though I didn't know Hannah's mom, didn't like Hannah, didn't like the fact that my friend would be worrying about her and getting even more depressed and I didn't know what to do with myself anymore.
Is this how powerful hate is?