Okay, life. Let's talk. Today: About hate. And why it's sometimes smarter than its reputation.

Hate. Yes, I said it. The evil four-letter word.

Doesn't sound nice. Doesn't sound Instagrammable.

Sounds more like a dark basement than a cozy soulcare retreat.

But you know what? I hated it.

Not out of cold-heartedness. But out of love.

Because something was important to me.

Because someone hurt me, others, my world.

I hate when people deliberately destroy things.

When someone intentionally divides, belittles, manipulates.

I hate when respect is trampled on and dignity is seen as decoration.

And no, that doesn't make me angry.

That wakes me up.

Because hate is not always the opposite of love.

Maybe he is her protective shield.

The quiet alarm when something crosses our border.

An inner: This far – and not a step further.

People who know what they hate often also know what they love.

They have values. Attitude.

And sometimes anger in the heart –

not because they are broken,

but because they sense exactly what is not okay.

Of course hate can destroy.

When we feed it, care for it, make it a pet.

But completely repressing it doesn't make us any better.

Just blinder.

And blind people stumble more easily –

especially about yourself.

So yes: I hate.

Now and then.

Not loudly. Not constantly. But honestly.

And that’s allowed.

Because the point is not whether we have dark feelings.

The point is: what we make of it.

A compass? Or a dungeon?

Maybe maturity is exactly that:

Not the absence of shadows,

but the courage to endure them –

and listen to them.