Hate. Such a gross word. Sophomore year, I really hated this one boy. I felt sick even looking at him as we passed by in the halls. All though I felt I was right to hate him, I felt as though I had weights holding me down. One day, I just stopped hating him. I doNot know if I chose this or if it was time that healed my wounds, but after I had no more hate to give I felt free.