the flaming lips ask a good question

What a wreck it all is.
A wreck you either love or hate.
And what is love and hate?
Can we know one without the other?
How can we distinguish the two from everything else?

How do I know when I love someone?
Do they become a vital part of life I cannot live without?
No, that cannot be.
I will live on no matter who and how many cease to be.
And the different loves.
What a word.
I can love chocolate and music.
But can I love another being?
That love seems harder to achieve.
I am fond of many people.
I am more fond of some than others.
But who do I love?
I love my family, but again, a different love.
Would I love them if not for the blood we share?
No matter the lost loves.
The heart will still beat.
Or will it?
Is there a true heart stopping love?

And I now reach the point where I ask myself the relevance of this self interrogation.
My brain powers my thoughts.
Attempt to rationalize an ambiguous abstract state of being originating from the heart is, in itself, irrational.
Sometimes I hate my jaded rationale.

Ahh, yes, hate.
The opposition of the above.
I believe hate to be more concrete.
Given, one can claim hatred of materials.
But a hate for another being is hardly indecipherable.
The potency of the word stings my heart to hear as human to human expression.
I feel I could more easily love than hate.
I know, at least hope, the majority of mankind would agree with that.
But if I cannot make sense of love, I cannot begin to comprehend hate.
How can one put so much emotion and thought into a waste of feeling?
What does hate bring to others beyond inevitable negativity?
Why would one crave for something so unpleasant?
The world remains ugly enough with smaller entities like gluttony and greed.
And I realize we are all just human.
There is no sense pondering these things.
The answer is always absent.
And no real answers ever blossom.

Sometimes I feel trapped inside myself.
Life seems easier for those incapable of an outside perspective.
But in contradiction, this life is all I will ever have.
I am glad I can derive such thoughts.

I am grateful that I can write those thoughts down.
Pen and paper.
Two of the simplest elements that create extensions of our brain when combined.
I lay in bed and write essentially nonsense.
I should be doing school work.
Not that I don't want to.
I just have a heavy mind.
This past year has made it especially heavy.
But I suppose everyone at this level experiences this.
I guess I find it harder to easily dismiss.
Does life really change all that much?
What will I do after school?
Live like the rest of them.
Try to make the most of my insignificant existence.

I know I seem so pessimistic about it all.
But these are not upsetting thoughts by any means.
I honestly don't feel much about the subject.
But I suppose the apathy is just a symptom of reason.