“Fear is the path to the dark side. Fear leads to anger, anger leads to hate, hate leads to suffering.”

– Yoda.

Hate is a strong word. I have come to realized the word hate I used when I was younger was very much different from the word hate I understand right now. To me back then, to hate means to dislike, the feeling of unpleasantness or being angry at/about something just like when I used to say “I hate broccoli” or “I hate school”. Now as I have grown older, to hate means to despise or loathe with a burning hatred, and poor broccoli don’t deserve this kind of hate. The word now have more weight, which is why I felt completely miserable for the last few days because I felt hate inside.

Few days ago, I heard that my  friend was bullied by someone older and bigger than him. I believe my friends was (and still is) innocent in this matter and he was unjustly bullied. I was angry because this Bully have glittering reputation and is well respected by society but he used his good standing to bully my friend and many people just (blindly) believes that his action was justified and refuse to acknowledge the truth behind the whole matter. The worst part was that I can’t do anything to better the situation, and the Bully know this. I hated myself for knowing that I’m powerless in this situation, and all I can do is just letting my friend know that I’m on his side and keep myself updated regarding this situation. I hate the fact this Bully know that he can use people’s trust to his advantage and will use that to intimidate my friend again in the future.

I hate every second of the time I felt this hatred both in my head and in my chest and tried really hard to just forget about it all and continue with life. But just like being lured  by a juicy temptation from the devil himself, it kept pulling me back to it from time to time. When I shower, usually my most relaxed time, I found myself thinking about it. During my free time when I usually think about topics and contents I want to write in my blog, I still found myself thinking about it. Even when I was about to sleep, it pulled my thought to it, and prevent me from falling asleep which I found quite disturbing as I usually fly almost immediately to the land of dreams once my head hit the pillow. I can’t relax, can’t write, and can’t sleep peacefully, until I actually made peace with myself. Acceptance of the fact that there are things that are just beyond my control and reach, and it is totally okay and normal, and I don’t have to keep punching myself (not literally) because of it.

I actually prayed, something I’m not usually do, before I slept in the last few days and I can feel that it helps. I have made my prayer to be my hideout place. For those who believes in religions and God, like I do, maybe this is the Hand of  God at work, blurring and soothing a burning anger into a calming peace. For those who doesn’t believe in religions and God, maybe there’s a physiological effect like you will feel calmer after you share your problems to someone who is willing to listen and in this case, I told this particular problem I had inside my prayer. Some articles also suggests that translating anger into writing can also bring calmness to oneself, which is proven to be true as I poured my restlessness into this blog.