Haters Hate

Haters hate.

It is for them as a drug. They are addicted to it, nor seek they to free themselves from their slavery to it.

Haters seek revenge. Whether the offense is real or imagined, it is for the hater as real as his hatred.

Haters seek to harm the person whom they hate. To them, that person is not human, has no value as a creature of God. It matters not to the hater that God loves everyone, both the hater and the hated alike.

The hater’s desire for revenge can never be sated.

As quickly as one perceived injustice is avenged, another one demands his attention, and commands anew his hatred.

Hatred has a long memory. Lives may be short, the generations may rise and fall in vast succession—but vendettas last forever, long after the original offense is forgotten.

Hatred knows no limits. There is barely a pause after the hated person struck is down, then that hatred is redirected at the next victim.

The only person the hater hates more than any other, is himself. It is he whom the hater casts into the flames of abhorrence, there to writhe in eternal agony, a spiritual desolation which the hater neither recognizes, nor would escape if given the opportunity.

Hatred knows no reason nor needs it, for hatred contrives its own justifications.

The only love the hater ever knows is the love of hatred itself. The Upon the altar of that false god the hater willingly places himself, a futile and pathetic self-sacrifice to that which mocks him, and then destroys him.

Avoid it before it ensnares you.

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