It's funny, I identify with the people like Johnny the Homicidal Maniac, and Kacyzynski. They are, for the most part, right in their thinking; they make sense. The only real difference between me and them is when I look at the closed mindedness, the stupidity, the crumbling of the world, I still find myself filled with a sense of love, caught in awe of its breathtaking beauty.
I don't hate, I don't think I can hate. And that's probably a good reason why I won't go on an insane killing spree. There are two things required for homicide or suicide: you have to hate yourself, and you have to hate everything else. I don't hate everything else, and I do like myself, although my situation is something I wish I had more ability to change. I suppose that tearful frustration, that gaping despair that grabs me whenever I think of the inevitable entropic end of everything, that might be hate. But I don't think I could feel that way about something, or someone. I can say it's definitely not something I want to find out.
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