I don’t hate anyone. I pity some, and I know many who I’d rather not be around. There are a few I can stand, there are even fewer I am fond of. The people I love I can count on one hand, those that are still alive, at least. To count what people call true love, I only need a single finger. Unfortunately that finger is slowly becoming dysfunctional, due to dis- or misuse (take your pick).
Poor thing. I am so sorry for you.
Don’t you hate pity? No matter how lousy I feel, I don’t want to be pitied. Sympathy I’ll take, just barely, but pity? No way. Fuck off.
No one who pities me can be my friend. A friend will say: I feel for you, but bear up to the burden, dammit. I feel for you, but you will conquer the situation, you’ll make it! No one who says: oh, you poor thing… can be my friend. That goes against the grain. Gets my hackles up in no time flat.