The Truth of Hate

This is a story of a hateful world dreadfully close to ours. It is a story of truth, not a true story, but a story of the real truth behind hate.

Life, as it always is, was unforgiving on this dark winter. This winter of sadness, this winter of terror, this winter of death. As always, the winter grew cold, restless, and dismal. The fog grew thicker and thicker like a curtain of ash rising from the earth. The night was black and still. There was nobody there. It was a barren wasteland because they had all died. What happened to this once thriving community in this center of the industrial earth? There was one left. Yes, me. If you havent figured it out yet: I did it. I killed this cruel world, this vindictive place of hell. This place where I have killed all due to my disgust of this unfortunate planet in this unfortunate being. This place of hatred, and detestation.

As a child they say I was abused and hated. For that, my parents were thrown in jail, along with my soul. They also say that I am retarded, mentally challenged, as they would put it. But little did they know, this mentally challenged kid I once was would lead to their demise. Their painful death of a thousand deaths. They did this to themselves. They drove me to this point of insanity, this point of rage beyond the worst of rage. They didnt think I was dangerous. They thought I was too stupid to do anything, and they were wrong.

I realize now that my hate towards them created someone who did not exist. It created this damned creation. They did it, they did it, THEY DID IT! Sorry, I got off track. I went to this point of no return. When they did it, they threw me in the asylum and put on the straight jacket to render me helpless to all. They do not know; they never will know, for they are dead. They are dead for all this pain they caused.

I realize this hate I speak of was pointless and useless. This hate killed all. This hate killed loved ones, it killed the intellect of the world, it killed all that I loved. It killed the gleam in a childs eyes when peering into a toy store, it killed the sweet smell of women who loved themselves so much, and it killed the clean, crisp conversation at the top of a mountain of two lovers sharing thoughts, sharing events, and just sharing.

I realize now this world I killed was not full of hate, but love. Sure, there were those who never loved and always hated. They never really lived here. They merely existed on this once teeming world. These people that hated were neither black, nor white, nor Hispanic, nor any other race. They were simply human. They were of all races. Did they hate because of background or skin color? No, much more simple, and terrifying than that. An explanation to give thought that everyone else could be pulled in just as easily. They were only scared of their own race; petrified of their own discrepancies.

This downfall of their character, these reasons of hate, is nothing more than their scapegoat for the crime against humanity: hate, as they called it. The terminally I'll were hated, obese people were hated, people of dark skin were hated, people in turn of light skin were hated, and people of different religion were hated. Who says that one which religion is the truth? This fact is not known, so why hate? Another reason we are pulled in: they hate because they need someone to preach to, they need to yell in someones face of their faith, of their religion that is most likely not true, most likely way off from the real truth. The truth that nobody can prove true until after their body has perished.

Life is to be cherished, not hated. Not ended because of beliefs of life and what life is, the meaning of life (which is merely their own definition) and what they thought it meant. People in general found the darkness of a person and took it to heart. Then they preyed on it like wolves that have swarmed a carcass. They hated me because of my intellect. And they were wrong. They thought I was stupid, and treated me accordingly.

Now I lay here, dagger in hand, ready to die like all the others, only realizing what I have done. I always have known that this was the end, for both mankind and myself. Hate has killed us all. The same hate we used to thrive upon turned against us. This hate that was thought to be harmless slowly and subtly lead us to the demise of all mankind and any other living thing on this godforsaken planet.

As I thrust the dagger in, as my life ends in distress, it ends in sadness. Sadness for all who have died because of hate, sadness for all those who thought they needed hate to survive, all who thought they were normal and hate to hate everyone else that was different from them and their loved ones, sadness for all those who hated who they loved, and sadness for all those enslaved by their own hate. Their own foolish hate that would in any other form is the simplest of projects to set aside. I die in vain for all who have hated or have been hated. The end is upon me, for I have killed myself with my own hate, as everyone else has, only to see why I was here. Now my soul will wander to find the answer to one more question and end the hate: why was I set on this planet to do what I did?