How Can You Hate One You Used To Love?
How can you hate one you used to love?
How can you hate what you're used to loving? How can you hate the way you greatly love something before? The way speeches would come flowing out of your mouth, the way words would be swimming in pieces of paper, the way images would be painting itself on canvases... how could you easily despise that as if it never happened at all? As if they never mattered at all?
It would be easy to blame the whispers. Would be easy to indulge with the thought that it wasn't the continuous rain that caused the landslides, that made a tragedy out of the solid ground that became your foundation. It would be tempting to hide from the truth you once love to search for. Wouldn't be mildly surprised if that's what everyone would urge you and support you with. It would be right to go along with what you've grown up with, what you've learned to be passed down, what you've loved to continue loving.
But sometimes it all stops.
The light caress don't linger like the way it used to. The soft voice don't echo like you expected it to. What used to be sweet leaves a bitter taste in your mouth, almost gagging you with every reminder that you once took carelessly what was offered to you all too willingly. It makes the raging fire calm into a slow burning ember before dispearing. It makes the light turn into darkness.
How can you hate something you used to love?
How can anyone know? How can a person explain? How would I know?
I know nothing. Nothing at all. Yet it seems like the answer is a truth hidden in plain sight.
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