Quantitative Hate

Here is a brief glimpse into my mind. This is how I work:

When I'm in this logical, non-emotional state I analyze information, right? And I grok things. I grok myself. I hate myself. This hatred, though, is stronger than any other, because I know everything about the subject of my loathing. It is an interesting feeling.

I have said it before, but I need to reiterate: I am not emotional right now. Imagine Holden Caufield in Catcher in the Rye, or Richard Wright in Black Boy. This serene lack of emotion, which I've so diligently acquired over many years, is much like lucid dreaming. I'm in the calm of the storm, not buffeted by waves of emotion. I suddenly realize that this matter is easily solved and will not matter 10 years from now, like I'm in a dream. I want to get this point across, but others are emotional. They haven't analyzed the waves of emotion, re-analyzed the analysis, and then pondered that meta-analysis again.

Maybe I'm crazy. I feel sane, which means I'm definitely crazy. I apologize for the erratic nature of this post, but I'm starving; both physically and mentally. I think I shall make some dinner and listen to Death Cab.

Basically, when I am feeling emotion, all along in my room at night, I feel mostly hatred. Believe me, there's a lot of loneliness, sadness, and pessimism, but it's mostly hatred. True, unmitigated hate. I believe it was Heinlein who said that, against knowledgeable hatred, normal hatred pales in comparison. When you truly grok something you can love and hate it with a passion rarely found in the heart of man.

Nicole: I love you.
Nelson: I hate you.