the thing about this belief that i hate the most

at first, i couldn't understand the bigger scheme of things. i couldn't fathom why he or she or you or i should hate each other because our imaginary patrons were not the same, or why they may tell us to never lay arms upon one another - except when we do not share the same imaginary patrons, in which case it's a justified free for all. i could not  comprehend why and to what ends wars are fought, or persons oppressed, or people demeaned, or lives shunted, all for the sake of incomprehensible greater goods. and i accepted that. i accepted that there could be no way that a person so feeble as myself could warrant or see through my invisible proxy's eyes. soon, i grew weary, and all these matters were not - they did not matter any more - and i could, for a moment, understand that there was no way i could understand.

then came effort without reward, and reward without effort. punishment without sin, and perhaps most incomprehensible of all, wrongdoing without punishment. i could not hope to question why my imaginary patron falls before yours, or why yours would before mine, or if there was only one of many, then why we could not agree to appease the same friend?

and i hated every bit of this, with the renewed hatred of the old lack of understanding.

but most of all, i grew to hate that which was petty and menial, and inconsequential in the bitter eyes of the cosmos. i hated that you could not be with me because we did not share the same fanciful friends and fairies. i hated that, though they told us many, many things, this alone would be the reason why we could not be together. and i hated 'it' as much as i hated them. i hated that you could bend and break some of your creeds, of whose basis i cannot even empathise with, but because it was told that i am of different breed and understanding and foresight and lack thereof, then i am evil and corrupt and taint. and therefore we cannot, should not be together.

now, i hate that this defines me, and who i am, regardless of what i have or would do, and we cannot learn to love because your ephemeral make belief has dictated so - and vice versa has mine.

tomorrow, i will hate that i do not believe any more in them, but still i lie prostrate before my imaginary patron. without heart, without belief, without understanding, and by far, without trust (any longer). i hate that i do not want for it, and yet it has become so embedded in me - they have become so embedded in me - that i will continue to do so, perhaps until the day i die.

i hate that i have become that which i do not believe; i hate that in the same way you will always come to hate me for that which i sought so hard to disprove that i am not.

and at the end of it all, i will hate most that regardless of what you or i, he or she, they or us, have chosen (or better still, brought up) to believe, it will all mean the same: that you cannot see me as more than something less.

the only thing that will, perhaps, create in me more hatred, is if i find out that it has been regardless of what i believe - that you would have hated me anyway.