Hatred

If you’ve been following my log for a while you might have noticed the theme of self exploration. On of the reasons I’ve always enjoyed writing diaries is that they sort of make me face who I am.

Especially lately I’ve been trying to look within and face some of the major flaws, hangups, issues that I have.

Turkey happens to be one of them.

Ever since I can remember I’ve wanted to leave Istanbul. I grew up in a crowd where I was continually excluded and ridiculed for being different. While I enjoyed reading, my so-called friends spent their time gossiping and shopping. I was the nerd and the dork. It seemed the only way I could escape these labels was to go to the other end of the universe. One where people would stop treating me as the freak.

The thing is I never stopped hating those people. Each time I come back and run into one of them my knees go weak and I become the same girl with coke bottle bottom glasses and extreme lack of self confidence. Which, of course, results in my having violent reactions to their presence and I hate them. Just the thought is enough to make me cringe.

Tonight I was sitting at a concert and thinking of all those teenager friends whom I hate and I decided that hatred is a sign of a flaw in myself, not others. If other people can cause such a strong emotion to come to the surface there must be some residual issues within.

Many psychologists believe that the things we hate in others are really the reflections of flaws we have within, but I’m not sure I agree with that. I do, however, agree that for me to feel something as strong as hatred there must be something going on. So I spent some time thinking why I hate them and howcome they still have such a strong effect on me.

And I came to the same conclusion as I have been reaching for many other things lately: cause I let them.

It’s truly amazing how much more is within the range of one’s capacity than one is willing to admit. It’s so much easier to say “Oh I’ve always been like that and it’s who I am.” Just like it’s easier for me to hate those people rather than accept the fact that a part of me still feels insecure/inadequate.

So here’s the deal: as of today I don’t hate these people anymore. I might not agree with their choices in life and I still don’t appreciate the way they treated me as a child but the past is past and I am ready to move on and let go.

Hatred is a wasted emotion.

Previously? Regret.