"Love and hate are pretty much the same thing,"
says a friend.
I've felt both extremes,
only for the people closest to me, the people I care about,
the people I would go to lengths for, the people I would die for.
these people measure few and far between.
And if I don't feel a thing, or perhaps cannot be bothered,
or feel neutral about something,
then perhaps that person probably doesn't matter
as much as one whom I would love and hate.
Yet, love and hate are really confusing.
I cannot distinguish between the two.
I guess I really love you.
I guess I really hate you.
But as time passes, I have to push everything away,
bury everything.
The inconsequential.
Or is it really?
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