I haven't written in months, and it might as well be years or even another lifetime. This is the equivalent of having my wings clipped, and I have not sung a song in my gilded cage. I may finally be embracing the idea of adulthood. No, wait. I may be abandoning my childhood. Either way, what I haven't said is that part of the reason I haven't written is that I'm a hated man. It's an active, poisonous sense of dislike hidden behind a face of indifference, and it wishes to see the end of me. You can tell me that it's too extreme a thing to exist between two people, but other people see it exists, too. Do I reciprocate the feeling? I don't think I know how.
“Hatred paralyses life; love releases it. Hatred confuses life; love harmonizes it. Hatred darkens life; love illuminates it.”
~ Martin Luther King, Jr.
I was shocked when I saw that Maya Angelou used the term "hater". If feels so juvenile to me and almost dehumanizes the person. It's dismissive, and yet, while I focus on this for the moment, please know that I have a lot of the right kind of love in my life. I know I share bonds with people that defy description. I'm crazy about them and totally feed off this mutual connection we have. There's love between us without question; Not a single move or word questioned, intangibles understood as if they were a private language between us. I've had a few "what the fuck are you doing?" moments with strangers...and let's face it...I know who they are because the real people in my life fill moments with truth.
In this case and only this instance can I mention names. If I ever look in the mirror and can't recognize myself, I know Vivian will remind me. If I sell out, give up, or surrender to a false definition, Andrea will grab me and set me straight. If I reach the end of reason and begin to let go, I can call Wes and open my eyes. These people are my history, along with new names both within reach and thousands of miles away. From their inspiration, I sit here to fight and write.
"We hate some persons because we do not know them; and will not know them because we hate them."
~ Charles Caleb Colton
I know what you're thinking. Okay, maybe not actually what you're thinking. You might say that you can't please everybody, and odds are that I might not be liked by everyone. That's fairly logical and easy to accept. It's slightly cliche, but there's truth in it. Like I said before, this is an active hatred. I've seen emails. I've heard stories. I've faced the neverending criticism and walk into the storm every day knowing that lightning can strike at any given moment. Do I feed it? I avoid it at all costs. Do I meet the mask of indifference with my own? I know the truth, and at times it completely deflates me because I haven't provoked it. It seethes and needs to be the only thing in existence. The love in my life is the starry night sky, and the hate is the huge sucking black hole looming nearby. That's exactly how it feels.
Cat tells me it's a matter of perception. I constantly see it, so it has to exist. When I forget about it, it resurfaces and reminds me that it's still waiting for me to trip, to fail, to be exposed and open. Jesus, that sounds abusive. I still slip into it, though I'm much better off than last year when this hatred was in my face and almost fanatical about making me unhinge and expose myself.
"The opposite of love is not hate, it's indifference. The opposite of art is not ugliness, it's indifference. The opposite of faith is not heresy, it's indifference. And the opposite of life is not death, it's indifference."
~ Elie Wiesel
Thanks to Playhouse training, I feel everything (to some extent) and my curiosity prevents me from straying towards indifference. I've held my feelings and thoughts about this for a long time, and felt ready to finally talk about it. It's an insult, really, to those gorgeous stars in the sky. What's going to happen will happen, and I have some say in that. I can't, especially now, be what you want me to be, unless you accept me as I am or support who I want to be. It just can't work any other way.
