There’s an old expression that love and hate are two sides of the coin. Personally I disagree. Hatred is far, FAR stronger. Love – at least in my experience – is something floaty, whimsical and ethereal, but hatred is primal and visceral. All consuming. Both are unquestionably strong passions, but one is a largely internal and self reflecting affair, while the other both burns and radiates, utterly unable to be contained.
Hatred – real, vein twitching, palm sweating, fury igniting hatred – is something that, mercifully, doesn’t come along very often. While it’s far to say we’ve all got dozens upon dozens of people we may intensely *dislike* (or perhaps that’s just me. My enemies list is sizeable!), there’s a significant void between dislike and blood bursting hate. I dare say there may be a significant number of individuals out there who have been lucky enough to skip through their lives without ever truly hating anyone. And I’m delighted for them (But they also make my dislike list, because I’d never truly trust someone so capable of remaining calm!).