the finger you point with.

‘I really don’t hate anything, don’t even really dislike anything’ you could see he was serious, said it in this nonchalant, very matter of fact way ‘it’s something I figured pretty early on, some cliche mess that always stuck. ‘what’s the point?’ you can take that a couple ways I guess, it’s not worth the energy or time, that it would get in the way of the important. I always took it differently, I took ‘what’s the point’ as a challenge. that everything has a point, a perspective, an insight, a value. so to hate something, that just lacked understanding. instead of not being worth the time, maybe that time was valuable, maybe just acknowledging that hatred reflected on you most, it’s tough for people to realize that the finger they point with, is their finger. I guess just acknowledging and examining, that always seemed like the point to me. you might not love everything, you might pick and choose, but hatred is a choice too, a choice to carry some ignorance around with you, and that lack of understanding is your lack of understanding, you only hate what you don’t understand. so yeah, what’s the point of that.’ he took a big sip of a bigger beer ‘it’s all love baby’ and smiled, that crooked, ugly, inviting smile, and then, then he just kept on smiling.