I know you don’t love me. I’m not saying you hate me, but I know you don’t love me.
If this were a random MF or an enemy, it wouldn’t really be an issue. It would be customary and expected, essentially status quo. But when it comes from someone or persons you know, people you fuck with, it’s tough. When y’all ate free lunch and no frills meals together, the love was ironclad. But through life’s progression, things changed when one of you tasted success while the other struggled. And, even though your man blew and continued to treat you as famz, you secretly resented him. You resented his success and acclaim. But, deep down, you resented yourself for not doing shit with your life while your Day One endured his or her odyssey to greatness. What’s truly sad is the fact that you were there to see his or her long path, all the time they put into their craft, the way they chased their dream endlessly. You know they deserve everything they’ve achieved, and more. But you still hate. How dare you? That’s merely a rhetorical question. At the end of the day, life teaches us that the oft quoted cliché and classic R&B song from the Persuaders hold true: [it’s a] thin line between love and hate. I learned from the brilliant Professor Eric King that love and hate are not opposites, contrary to the misbeliefs of many. Love and hate are both emotions, essentially one in the same. That’s why the thin line theory holds true. Relations, both plutonic and intimate, can quickly or in time progress from love to hate for many reasons. And yes, that line is thin. People love you, seemingly, when you do things to benefit them. Cut that pipeline off or strangle it so it only drips instead of pours and you’ll see how fast the hate comes. But let’s revisit my original point. It’s sad how your own folk will hate your success, even though y’all supposed to be folk. But the hate sends a clear and concise message. They’re just upset because you went forth and did something greater than they could ever imagine, much less emulate or exceed. They’re angry because they can’t be you, instead of admiring and cheering on your accomplishment. It’s a damn shame your own folk often time can’t cheer you on because your success shines a bright beam of light on their shortcomings. This isn’t an underlying agenda in my words; I’m not specifically referring to anyone in my life, although I did feel a bit of shade from some of my so-called “folk” when I finally did something with my life by unleashing 100 Blocks Stories on the masses. But I expected that. What’s sad is that some of these folk have achieved noted success in their lives. But oh well. I supported them when they had their triumphs. It doesn’t hurt me that the love hasn’t been returned. It just pushes me to work even harder. I know you don’t love me…
It’s a crying shame to see a 40something woman who’s as dumb as a high school freshman, but I’m watching it happen in real time. She’s got a nigga who blatantly flaunts his other women in her face, doing things like calling them right TF in front of her. There have been times when she’s been in his neighborhood and random women have approached her, ready to fight over this nigga. She cries, she complains, then she goes right back to the nigga, like a wet puppy returning indoors after being caught out in the rain. Hey, if you choose to be a dumb bitch and let a nigga run all over you, by all means, do you. But don’t hit my line asking, “What’s wrong with me?” What’s wrong with you? You’re the textbook definition of a dumb bitch. You let a trifling nigga kick you square in the ass whenever he feels like it, and you accept it like you have no options. I don’t feel sorry for ignorant, weak individuals, male or female. I’m not the one to call for sympathy. I’m gon tell you what time it is on the straight up, unabridged and without bias. If you can’t handle that, don’t hit my line. I’m not a groupie here to reassure your fragile feelings and make you feel good. My world is comprised of stark reality. I make no apologies for speaking the truth. Bottom line: you’re a fucking idiot, and you deserve all the agony you’re receiving.
P.S. All of the preceding scenarios mentioned in this blog are merely for entertainment purposes, not specifically aimed at anyone. The personalization was simply used for effect. Yeah, that’s my story…
And for the record, the opposite of both love and hate is indifference/apathy.
Send all love/hate mail to email@example.com. Follow me on the Twitter @tymonday, where I have absolutely no filter. Also follow my family, @themisterceizzo, @CraftyLefty57, and @crewunB. We follow back, unless you’re some type of fucking weirdo. We’ve got a fresh new shipment of tees arriving this week, so place your preorder now. And we’ve still got the a la carte apparel you need. Just @ us. We’re also on Instagram at theunbearablescrew. Until next time, wrap it up and say no to drugs, unless you know her like that, your pull out game is on Iraq, and it’s that sweet cheeba.
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