Listen. It's not that I don't hate anymore. I do. Trust me I do. If you have spent time with me in real life and a recent planet-wide poll reveals that only one of you has, and even then only as an imaginary friend you have witnessed the merciless mélange of misanthropy (the spew stew, in street parlance) in bold 3-D. Believe me, quite a bit of the effect is lost when you only read about it, here on the two-dimensional page.
So, anyway, I know I haven't been sharing my hate with you lately. At least not on a grand scale. Sure, I've been giving you little tastes. Sips. But I haven't held out the spoon for you to lick. Or handed you the electric beaters so you can place your tongue between them a millisecond before I accidentally turn them on. And I apologize.
I promised (New Year's resolution, everyone!) a very good non-imaginary friend that this year I would hate more fully and freely than I ever had. And I've been making good on that promise. Believe me. I'm just containing the hatred behind the scenes, is all.
So don't worry about me. Don't think I don't hate you just because I haven't expressed myself otherwise. I assure you that's not the case.
Thanks for your concern, though. For that, I love you.fresh-baked at 07:53 PM