I try not to use the word “hate” very often because I think it should only be used in extreme situations.
I hate that my brother always thinks that he knows better than I do. Every time I tell him about my problems, he just brushes them off as stupid teenage stuff and insists that all my problems aren’t real. He acts like he knows everything because he’s older than me and he’s a “real adult”. Yeah, I know that I don’t know shit and yeah, he definitely knows more than I do about plenty of subjects, but I’m not an idiot, I’m not a baby, and my problems are real. They also can’t just be solved by meditation like he keeps telling me.
Like the other day for instance. I was talking about my anxiety and how I’ve been going to therapy for literal years and I told him that he doesn’t know what it’s like living this way because he’s never had to experience it. Then he turned it into a joke and kept saying “well, how do you know I’ve never been to therapy?” I know, Jack. I know that you’ve never had to go through the things that I’ve gone through. You think all my problem are trival and won’t even try to have any empathy for me. You won’t take even a minute to put yourself in my shoes and wonder what it’s like living day after day after day wishing only that you had the courage to finally kill yourself.
I know deep down I love him but I hate his complete lack of empathy and the way he belittles my problems.