By Frances Giulietta Eve Towers

“I hate people that are as transparent as cool glass. I hate rudeness to service staff. I hate rejection. I hate people that are brought up in THAT sort of way. I hate manipulators. I hate hate hate ignorance. But what I hate the most is someone having control over me; to tell me what I can and can’t do, to be the sole possessor of a switch that can turn my day from magical to terrible, to rule my emotions and thoughts.

I love people that are kind, who don’t dream of having any sort of agenda. Who are generous and giving. I love pretty things – pretty clothes, jewelry, personalities. I love University, I love English Literature. I love Love. I love being in love, spending time with the one I love, advising others on love. I love being independent to make my own decisions, but also to have friends who wont let me make them alone.”

I’m traveling down from Edinburgh to London on the longest train since long trains on long train celebration day all having a competition to be the longest train. Finally, I’ve finished my exams and I feel elated/fantastic/enraptured/delighted. But also slightly scared about all those things which I pushed to the back of my mind, using ‘Revision’ as the big distraction. After the death of my grandfather, there’s been a lot of hate in my family, the majority of which I’ve had to bear the brunt of – because, its definitely the 19 year old’s fault. Obviously.

I hate my family. I hate that they moved me from Sheffield to the South, That they spent more time at work than with me, that I know my child-mind better than I know my mother. I hate my mother for being so vindictive, so bitter, so jealous, so incredibly irrational. I hate my dad for not standing up for me against said irrationality. I hate my sister for being so incredibly immature.

I love my family. I love that I live in such a gorgeous place, surrounded by my amazing friends. I loved boarding school more than I could ever explain and I love everyone and everything I have gained from it. I love my dad for being the kindest, stoical, fair man I’ll probably ever meet. I love my mum because she’s only tried to do the best for me (though got it death defyingly wrong). I love my sister for believing in fairytales and trying her hardest to make them come true.

Has hate sprung from love? Has love sprung from time, and maturity? Why do I only love my friends, not feel a strong hatred for their actions too? For sure, they annoy me, and I almost undoubtedly annoy them too. But I’ve never hated anyone, not one, who I didn’t love first.

“If you use blame as an outlet, your relationship will probably last. Yet the innocent love is gone, replaced by jealous, fiery, unhealthy love. Love teemed with the slightest element of hate is possibly the most dangerous thing emotionally for a human.”

Catullus writes in poem 85 of his collection, which has soared to glittering popularity perennially among literature students and romantics:

“Odi et Amo. Quare id faciam fortasse requiris,
nescio, sed fieri sentio et excrucior.”

“I hate and I love. Why do I do it, perchance you might ask?
I don’t know, but I feel it happening to me and I’m burning up.”

From the times of the ancients, love has been inherently twinned with hate. When you allow someone to have such possession over you, when you allow ‘I,’  ‘me, ‘mine’ to become ‘we’, ‘us’, ‘ours’ you’re not only allowing for a change of pronoun, you’re allowing for a change in autonomy. You can’t love, truly love, someone who does not expose themselves in the purest sense to you, nor take care of them if they refuse to be helped. Yet in achieving love, one must make themselves vulnerable to be loved. By exposing your deepest secrets to another human, you give them a weapon which can cut you deeper than any physical object. This leaves you open to pain if they cheat or lie.

Both of these outcomes turn to hate. If you are cheated on, the blow is immense. It’s a bad dream, but when you wake up in the morning, it’s still your reality. Someone who you used to care for so much has that little respect for you that they have broken an unspoken promise. This is when you truly hate someone. Confusion is paramount. How can someone who you used to consider so sweet, so kind, so loving, have caused such emotional pains. Yet love is blind. For most, blame is placed on other factors. The other person who caused your other half to cheat. The other aspects of the situation; had you not seen each other in a while, had you rowed, had they drunk too much. If you use blame as an outlet, your relationship will probably last. Yet the innocent love is gone, replaced by jealous, fiery, unhealthy love. Love teemed with the slightest element of hate is possibly the most dangerous thing emotionally for a human. Having been in this type of love, I can tell you you become dizzy. Dizzy from the scintillating heights, the shattering lows, the tears of joy, the tears of grief, all woven into a mosaic of contradictions.

Love and hate are one in the same; bridged only by vulnerability, trust, and choice. Choosing one creates another, yet trying to choose neither creates the same dichotomy. Maybe its what we’re bound to, as humans. Maybe its what we are. Maybe we’re not supposed to avoid either part. Maybe one creates the other.

Image: Naomi Yamada

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