i do not like that person, i must get to know them better

If you hate someone or something, it means you don’t understand it. Hate is the absence of curiosity. If you truly hate something, spend an hour studying it—without bias—until you feel yourself falling in love with it. But instead, you see something you don’t like and slam the door shut, locking yourself inside your own ignorance. Why do we do this?

What’s lazy is labeling something as hate speech just to avoid engaging with it. What’s cowardly is condemning without question. What’s difficult—what actually requires effort—is finding compassion, especially in the people and ideas we don’t identify with. It’s harder to sit with the discomfort of a thought we deem ignorant and try to make sense of it. But that’s exactly what would bring us closer together.

We’re so quick to sever ties over a difference in opinion, like executioners wielding guillotines made of self-righteousness.

You are just as much a hypocrite and a contradiction as the person you despise. The same venom you accuse your enemy of spewing is laced in your own words about them. They believe they are fighting for justice, just like you do. What makes your truth more valid than theirs?

You are a walking paradox. You say things you don’t mean. You contradict yourself. You switch sides like a turncoat in a war you barely understand. You are a conservative leftist, a pro-black antisemite, a humanist who thrives on hatred, a misogynist who craves the love of a man, a self-aware prisoner begging for escape but clutching the bars. You are an empath who rejoices in the suffering of the wicked, an artist who believes in free expression—until the art offends you.

You are the problem. And the solution. You are the reason someone wants to die, and the reason someone chooses to live.

I can’t fucking stand you. But if you disappeared, I wouldn’t know what to do with myself.

Patience is a virtue—until it kills you. Ego is the enemy—until it’s the only thing keeping you alive. We should only show love to the world! So we should hate everyone who doesn’t?

None of this is supposed to make sense. The sooner we accept that existence is an absurd, beautiful contradiction, the sooner suffering stops. And when that suffering stops, life will be so excruciatingly dull that we’ll beg for another Kanye rant just to remind us we’re still alive.

Everything is in question. So how can you possibly be certain of anything? You don’t fully know yourself. You barely understand the flicker of a flame in a candle, yet you claim to know, without a doubt, that another human being’s existence is harming the world?

There’s patriarchy, capitalism, racism, classism, misogyny, misandry, feminism, socialism, corruption, oppression, and unfair systems. But at their core, they’re just words—labels for illusions we’ve chosen to believe in. They only rule us because we let them. We are prisoners of our own creation, shackled by ideas that should have no power over the human spirit.

We are losing friends over words. Over thoughts. Over a single statement that doesn’t align with our personal identity. But who is this identity we hold so sacred? And why does it matter more than real human connection?

Even freedom has chains. Liberation has a cost. It can come in the form of loneliness, banishment, ostracism, alienation, displacement—a lifetime spent in the relentless pursuit of an ideal that will never be fully grasped.

You don’t have the answer. So stop pretending you do. You don’t know what will happen in the next five seconds. You don’t know yourself. You don’t know what’s going through someone else’s mind. You don’t know if, in their shoes, you’d do anything differently. You don’t know what happens after we die. You don’t know who God is. You don’t know what’s right and wrong. You don’t know what’s good and evil.

The only authority you have to judge comes from your own fleeting feelings. Not truth. Not certainty. Just preference.

And if that’s how you feel, my personal constitution says all I can do is respect that.