As much as we are defined by what we love, we are defined by things that we hate. Convinced of the fact I have always been but the perception was perhaps half of what exists.What we love and what we hate are like two streams running in meandering intersections through the channels of our nous, and as estuaries they mingle in the ocean that our psyche is.

In a restless transition of the same water that wantonly meets the same end and flows from perhaps the same source,we drown. Not knowing which of the two rivers were which. This led to us becoming what we hate. By volition or not, by chances that sustain themselves because we let them, by the precarious existence of the two.
Apathy is drought.
The only repulsion that did exist within the realms of my acceptance was apathy.What more damage could you have done?
The only switch that  was not to be turned on has been flicked on and off, off and on and I am not alone in such experiences. Do not turn apathy on as of(f) yet.,not here, not now, not on this.