Of Love and Hatred

Hello blog! It's been a long time... again. I run out of stuff to post. I had to take a break to pile up reflections and reactions on my observations in my wretched existence. Still got nothing noteworthy though.

So what I did was to look at others' blogs. I realized then how different we really are. There was a couple of suicidal blogs, some journal-like as mine, some are posts of already-published thoughts, but most are about love, which, honestly, I am not fond of. Love, love, love. Why is everybody talking about it? It's indescribably oversentimental. I have even seen blog authors compose and post their very own poems about looove. That reminds me of the poems I made. In high school, I made two poems for literature class. Almost everybody else wrote poems about looove. I think I was the only poet who expressed affectionate hatred for somebody in his sonnets. I don't want to brag about it, but my poems scored good grades, which I think is not because they were exceptional but because they were different. They stood out. How can fiery hatred not stand out in a pool of icky, gooey looove?

I don't mean to offend the love poets. I don't think there is something wrong with them. In fact, I think there's something wrong with me. Love is human nature. Why am I not fond of it? I do love, like the way I love food and stabbing people I hate at the back. But no romantic love. And I'm not serious about it. I'm so pathetic...

...or perhaps I'm not human.