Chapter 8 – Koly's Hatred

We went to the living room and she prepared dinner: pizza; I wondered where she would get the ingredients.

"You didn't need to bother, I don't need to eat."

"I like to cook and maintain tradition. That from today onwards you will accompany me makes me very happy," she revealed with a childish smile.

…If she tells me that, of course I can't reject her…

"You like pizza… true?" she asked, doubtful if she did the right thing; I nodded.

After dinner, she went into the bathroom; once it was over, I took a shower too.

We both had pajamas that were a bear costume: his white and mine brown.

Before we went to bed, she proposed a card game created by Ramia: Divine Quarrel, a game that, unexpectedly, was popular and that she kept updating. The rectangular cards had an illustration of a god with a written effect and, on the upper left edge, an arrow indicating the direction of his attack. She excitedly told me the rules.

⸎

"It's time to sleep," she remembered sleepily.

"Where do I sleep?"

The first time was in his room because I collapsed there.

"We could sleep together…"

…I wouldn't mind, but I'm worried that she'll do something strange…

"Are you sure? Remember that I am a man. What would you do if my instincts woke up?"

"You would not do that. Please…" she insisted, holding the bottom of my shirt.

…Why are you begging so much!? Are you afraid of the dark?

"Alright." I sighed.

I lay down facing the wall, she turned off the light and faced the opposite side. I felt his tail hitting my back, I was afraid I would turn over in my sleep and hurt her.

After half an hour of going to bed, she whispered to me:

"Koly, are you still awake?"

"Do you have to go to the bathroom? Do you want me to accompany you?"

"D-Don't treat me like a child!" She elbowed me on the back, annoyed.

"Just kidding." I forced a laugh.

"When you scared me on the stairs…, you did it to make me wake up, right? Koly, do you hate me too?…" she asked worried after a pause.

"Ought? You hate me?" I returned the question tiredly. She was silent for a few seconds:

"I would like to hear your story in your words…"

"It will take time. Are you sure?"

"Yeah…"

I sighed; I didn't want to remember it or talk about it at this point. I immersed myself in my memories to explain out loud what I was feeling.

⸎

As a child, I was alone much of the time. It's not that I got along badly with others; on the contrary, at a young age I socialized with anyone.

Without profit, I liked to help and make people happy.

I had no reason to make friends, I considered them temporary companions.

I realized that I thought differently from the rest, and I took it for granted that it was normal.

During that period I met all kinds of people, but I never spent much time with them. I didn't feel like I fit into any social circle.

Time passed and I couldn't find my dream, I didn't know why I lived. Study to work and live, to fulfill your dream and needs: that's how they were; I was not satisfied.

Nothing fulfilled me, I had no ambitions; I didn't hate or like anyone.

Without objectives: it was empty. Nobody supported me, or they got angry over trivial things.

Until, at fourteen, I discovered my dream thanks to reading stories, including romance. My heart beat imagining it, being and fitting in with someone for a lifetime.

But I was naive, not even his writers loved that way.

Based on my experience, my dream and love was molded into a perfect and real one.

If I found it, I would have reason to work hard: it would be my source of motivation.

I focused on fulfilling it, I had nothing else to hold on to or anything to lose; every day and year I searched tirelessly.

It was not something as simple as proposing to any person on the street, the counterpart had to share these thoughts.

It wasn't about falling in love, that was stupid, but about loving.

There was the Internet with which to efficiently search for a crowd. I searched, leaving aside those who could not fulfill it.

When I was sixteen, someone said they had my dream, but they lived on the other side of the planet. I worked hard and stayed up late alone learning their language to see each other.

After two years of connection, the day came when I would go to his country to be by her side. It would only be three months for being a foreigner and visiting, according to human rules.

That experience would end up molding my soul. She didn't spend a day with me, she stood me up when I wanted to accompany her somewhere and she only went out with her friends.

After so much time and effort in vain, I found out that she was unfaithful to me, she even admitted it.

That was the first and last relationship I had; still a virgin, I kept my spirit of looking for the person with whom I would spend the rest of my life.

I became demanding in order to comply:

I hated liars: they said they went shopping alone and in reality she played with friends.

I hated being ignored: left unseen for days or not answered honestly.

I hated infidelity or friends with benefits: having a partner and kissing or copulating with another out of lust.

I hated those who laughed at misfortunes: those who spoke ill of others behind his back or defamed them, people who made fun for no reason, those who cheated on their partner.

I hated gold diggers: the ones who love you for financial stability or a good physique to use you as a scourer, if you became poor or ugly they would leave with someone else.

I hated those who drank alcohol: it was poison, I wanted to live as long as possible with the person I would love, someone so carefree wouldn't fulfill it.

I hated those who did not love because of the distance: those things did not matter, with effort they were shortened; that she wanted a close relationship from the beginning was indicative of her cheap lust.

I hated those who broke up with their partner: if they already had one, he crossed them out too; if she broke up with the current one it didn't change the fact that she didn't love him, or that she didn't date someone she was interested in in an equal relationship.

I hated the ones that demanded to see you right away or, if not, they broke up with you: well, I was looking for ten years, if they wanted to see me so much, having looked for me ten years before.

If there was a person with my dream, I was sure they would think similarly.

Not working or studying would avoid those interested, so being a neet helped me.

I trusted that not everyone was that way, for that reason I never gave up. But that thought was also naive, it was impossible not to agree during years of effort.

Even if I helped others, no one helped me.

I didn't find it because I was the only one looking, no matter how hard I tried, it was useless.

Nobody had my dream: therefore, they were all the same. No one had the right to tell me I was wrong, especially from someone who never wanted to love.

This hatred was generated by my dream, it turned against me, increasing it as I lived.

I didn't find anyone decent; They were unforgivable for me, I convinced myself that they had no conscience.

I started calling those types of people humans, because they were molded the same.

I separated myself from society, my hatred and my impossible dream crushed my heart. I had no reason to make an effort, no one fulfilled me.

This created the counterpart of wanting to rest forever: I was sore and tired.

Just witnessing them made me nauseous, they disgusted me as an individual.

I met millions of them, just remembering it made my head hurt. Some said they had my dream; but it was false, at least not in the right way.

As that goddess said, the effort was pointless if no one did their part.

I hated that they talked as if they knew about that love that I was looking for when they did nothing to look for it and that they broke up with their partner several times until they found the right one.

They were unacceptable, tempting fate by making those they left behind miserable. Human love was like betting, because it was left to chance: to causality or to destiny; what I hated most was being associated with chance.

Some, after breaking up so much, had the mentality of not having more partners or that their sexual orientation was wrong.

It was frustrating, hatred and loneliness invaded me. A human would think it was bad luck, but when effort comes into play, luck and destiny do not exist.

Like I said, my way of thinking was different, thinking that it would never cause me problems; since I was little I was also naive.

When a human mockingly asked me about my future, it disgusted me. No one had the right to force me to work or study when no one could comply. Am I useless? What is my future? A future without humans.

Resting would make me happier than living in a world full of robots. Well, tell me, what is human love if not a succession of nonsense.

Without words, there is no consciousness; and without conscience, there is no love.

But what meaning do words have if they are used for evil?

Just like a sick person looks for a doctor, I was looking for someone I wanted to love.

If they thought I was so wrong, why didn't they introduce me to one? Or proof that alcohol was not poison.

⸎

"Can you believe it? They didn't appreciate life, they had the luxury of making bad decisions over and over again. Then you know…, I died alone, maybe because of anxiety; Even though there were millions of lives, it didn't fit any of them."

"…"

"Assuming I was wrong was wrong. I was satisfied, I tried until the end to fulfill my dream, although it was impossible… Ask any human how they met their partner and you will realize that they consist of chance, they don't know if they want children, they don't know if their partner takes drugs… They don't know what love they want and it changes year after year…"

"…"

"Nugu?" I turned and looked at her face; she seemed asleep. "Maybe it was unpleasant…" I stroked her hair, covered her better and turned towards the wall.