Being hated is not the end.

Sometimes you have to be hated to make things better. I'm okay with that. Well I have to be okay with that. Lets just say that I'm willing to wait out the storm as it lashes at my front door.

I know that after the storm is gone and the clouds clear that the stars will still be there. I want to make sure all the people I care for also make it through the storm. That they know that even if you can't see the stars through the storm that they are always there and will still be there when it is all over.


Sometimes the storm is outside and sometimes the storm is within. Thought the storm and all the trouble and pain is causes are not ever lasting.

Jesus was hated. He did not hate in return. I'm not anyway close to being as forgiving and as wonderful as he is but, I know that I can try and fallow his path. Stumbling and falling along the way as I do.

At least I have great company along the way. More friends to rough out the storm with me.

When the tempest tosses them I can try and be their tether and when the storm beats me down they are my life preserver.


I'm not the perfect friend. I've never pretended to be. I'm not the greatest person, in fact I'm a slaggen lump of lard that looks as odd as they come. Though I know that I deserve a great chance at life and so do the great people that I've met on my way. I know and thank God every day for the wonderful people that have come in and out of my life along the path. I really wish that some people would not choose to exit from our shared path. And sometimes I try and seek out the people that can cut the ties that bind us as friends. Sometimes it works and fewer times it doesn't. They are still welcome to share the dusty road I tred.

I'm a stubborn jackass. I just don't take the hint when people tell me to scat. Why would I? I'd rather be around them at their worst and hear them curse the stars that ever twinkle over our heads then not hear them share their pain. A pain I can't stand to see them suffer. I really want to take that pain and remove it from them. Remove the black cancer that consumes the light and joy in their soul. I don't know if I can but I want to try. If I don't try when what good am I as a person? How could I call them friend?


Give me your hate. Let it spew forth like the darken rain clouds that bring the beating storm. Let it fill the merky night. Let it drift off into the ebony black and be burned away by the coming dawn.

I'll be here with a rope and a hand to help you back to dry land.



That is if you'll let me be a helping hand. A hand just as beaten and calloused as any other that has see better days and knows there are more bad ones still yet to come.