Monday, February 10, 2014


I hate February.
Most of the reasons are personal and I won’t go into them on a public forum, but suffice to say that I’ll be glad when March arrives.
I suppose that It’s odd to say that you hate an entire month. But is it any stranger than hating, say, broccoli sprouts or flying in an airplane?  If you think about it, we hate a lot of things.
Hate is not an emotion that people talk a lot about these days.  It’s a word that has, well, lost its punch for most of us.  People use it so casually.
“I hate my job.”
“I hate my body.”
“I hate my school.”
But hate should not be taken so casually. So cavalierly.  It is a powerful emotion, one that can motivate and/or destroy us.
Hate is like a hammer. It can be put to constructive use or it can be used to smash the fuck out of things.  It’s all up to you.
And me.
I always thought that, over time, my antipathy toward this month would soften and fade.  That hasn’t happened.  It’s become something akin to a pearl; black moments, encased and protected by layers of milky time.
For a while, I tried to actively resist the negative feelings that February engenders in me.  The result was a manic version of myself that left me feeling emotionally exhausted and physically ill.
Now I just accept my feelings and get on with my life as best I can.
But I still hate this time of year.

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