Wednesday, June 23, 2010

Adore: It Rhymes With Abhor

There are some people who fill your heart with such joy that being in their mere presence feels like basking in sunshine. Not the searing sunshine of summer. More like the ambient glow of autumn when everything turns golden. Indian summer. Where the sun blesses rather than blazes.

Yes, I know some people like that. And even if a million people tell you there's something wrong with the object of affection, you can't bring yourself to accept it. You draw up a list of reasons, read it carefully, but the words are just words. They don't move into your body, they don't connect. You cannot believe your own words. Light speaks louder than words, I guess.

Yes, I'm supposed to hate you.

But when I see you, I break into blossom.

Damn you for being so beautiful.

Damn you for filling me with such joy.

And then there are others. They seem perfectly nice. They say the right words, smile in the right places, and yet, and yet, there's something rotten in the state of Denmark. And the aversion takes hold. And it grows. And grows. Until you hate them so much it's difficult to share the same room. Or breathing space.

And nothing exists but the hatred.

Hating without reason. As inexplicable as liking without reason. Or loving without reason.

There may be a warning in there.

I know what it means.

I just don't know what to do about it.

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