The parallels between love and hate

"So here it is-the three sides. Now let's find the other two sides as well," Our maths teacher is lecturing us on the ninth chapter of this book, "which will give us the square of- "

I look down at my notebook, filled with detailed scribbles I did, to match the speedy lecture, Mr Han was delivering.

"Should I— square root this?" I think, on which angle to consider, as he keeps going on and on, leaping from one math to the other.

Ring-

"Alright class, that would be it, for today. Remember to complete your homework and turn it in, to the class president." He enjoins us, as we all stand and say, in unison, "Thank you, sir," and a "Have a nice day."

We say these pleasantries to all the teachers, taking our classes. So much so, that these have become the punctilios, all the students of all classes abide by. The teachers, sometimes respond to us, with a "Thank you, to you too!" and a "Have a nice day too, dears."

And some teachers reply with an unadorned, "Bye," or a nod. Some, even merely depart the classroom, not heeding to our cordialities. They leave the classroom, taking all of our etiquettes and decorums with them.

Tilting my body, I look back, and see Lucas. "Luc," I whisper, "Luc!" But that guy just doesn't answer. "What's up with him-," I think, as I take my cell phone out.

To: Stupid slayer Sam

"Hey,"

"Had something IMPORTANT to talk to you"

As I see the two grey marks beside my message, I look up. 'He still doesn't see?'

'Was he wearing headphones, again?' I think as I glance back at the door, of our classroom. 'There are still minutes left, before the next class,' I think glancing at the clock, in front, before vamoosing from my seat.

Coming closer to the guy, I take one of his earphones out, and insert it inside my ear. "Huh?" I glance at Lucas, as he turns his head to look at me too, maybe because he sensed the air entering into his unobstructed ear.

"Dude," I call him, as he stares at me, like a vampire, without blinking. "Since when did you start listening to romantic pieces?" I ask him.

He stares at me without saying anything. As I said, he was staring at me like how a vampire would. "Hey," Coming closer to him, I whisper excitedly, "Like, Maria said, do you really have someone? An exquisitely gorgeous girl, you've met in LA?"

He continues to stare at me with his incomprehensible blue eyes, and a thin line on his face. "Just wanted to change my taste."

"But, you were never a fan of those guys who fall for one girl-the overly romantic ones," I say to him. He would always mock guys who fall for one girl. He would always call them, things like 'unrealistic', or 'impracticable' "Why would you suddenly change yourself and do something you otherwise won't, something you despise so much?" I say to him, with a little amused smile.

"If I say, I changed my taste to go a little closer to something I treasure a-great-deal." He says looking into my eyes, coolly. "Would she be pleased, to hear it?" He asks, staring at me.

All of a sudden, I feel a leap in my heart, an impulsive tug. 'So it is a she, huh?' I think with interest, as I say, "Of course, if you are willing to change for the better, and especially because of her, then she would be so ecstatic."

"Really?" he asks.

"Hundred per cent." I assure him, hands on my chest, to show how authentic my words are. "Any positive change is good." Putting my hands down, I look into his profound sombre eyes again, as I say with avidity, "You have a picture of hers'? I am sure she'd be incredibly adorable!"

He didn't say anything to it, and just continued to stare at me, "What?" I ask, "Are you seriously telling me to believe you don't have her picture?"

He gazes at me for some seconds more before saying, "Haah-I didn't get the time to click pictures."

"Seriously?" I stare at him. 'Is he a harlequin, or what?!'

Gesturing to his phone, I say to him, "Oie-check your phone."

"Why?" He says as he takes his phone into his hands, with a confused look. "Open it please," I repeat.

Opening it, I saw my text had reached him.

From- Daring Miss Radfile

"Hey,"

"Had something IMPORTANT to talk to you☹"

Looking up at me, he says, "Sorry." I can see myself, in his dark, blue eyes. I look at them, reflecting my face, as he says, wrinkling his forehead, "You wanted to tell me something?"

"I originally came here to say—" I wanted to tell him, about the math I didn't understand. I had thought that, as he'd explain to me, I'd match the steps with my scribbly ones.

But that's when the class president announced, "Please settle down, everyone. The teacher is coming."

"Nevermind. I'll talk to you, later," I say, as I swiftly get back to my seat. 'Where is Maria?' I wonder skimming my eyes through, the classroom.

"Good morning class." We all greet the teacher 'good morning', as she guides us through our history class.

Sliding the page over, I keep my phone, right beside me, a little hidden from the eyes. "Then from 1955, Martin Luther King Junior, became the most observable spokesman and chief in the civil rights movement, until the day he was assassinated in 1968." The teacher says as we all respond to her, differently.

Turning my head around, I see the beautifully adorned classroom, with pupils with familiar faces sitting behind and beside one another.

"Lisa!" A girl with lovely curly black, locks, waves at me, as our eyes meet. "Hey!" I reply back, gesticulating my hand back at her. She was sitting behind me, on my right side, in the second row. This girl is Cambria, with shining curly black hair and apple crimson cheeks. The genius with a remarkable business mind. She is determined to be a businesswoman, who will regulate her family business as well as become an entrepreneur of her own accords.

"Lis!" Another person waves at me, as my eyes, pass the boy sitting in front of Cambria. "Hey!" I wave back at him. It is Carlsen. He is your standard amiable classmate. He has an exceptional knack, an aptitude for photography. His photos look like glories descending unadulterated, directly from utopia. That's just how immaculate they are. Even though he has a tremendous fondness for camerawork and the field of photography, he is afraid of the future, on where or not he'd want to move forward with it in life. Because his family not quite favoring it. He comes from an unsophisticated family, one that would never allow him to be a 'mere' photographer, with the title of the 'Generdos'.

The girl sitting on my left-hand side is Emily. "Hi!" I wave at her, as she smiles back and says, "Hey, Lisa!" Her swarthy, mulberry dyed eyes glimmer, as she says, "Let's catch up, later!"

"Sure," I say to her.

Emily is a pleasant individual to hang around with. If you meet her, the only thing she'll ever talk to you about is designing, and how she absolutely loves it. She is the type, who would sketch her designs, whenever she'd catch a glimpse of a new creation, innovating in her. The type of shy-rebelish girl, who will disregard people heckling her, but smash them off when they'd hurt her close ones.

Everyone in this classroom, are well familiarized or at least knows each others' names. Many of us have been jointly together, since middle, and primary school.

The person, sitting at the other end of the classroom, with some other guys, the one who looks like a confidential cabal boss, is Ruppen. The bad boy. I have always satirized this boy, with the name 'Ruppen for a Tuppen.' I don't know, why. Or, what enticed to me call him, like that, but I did, and still do.

And every time I accomplish in doing that, he'd go wild enraged, and we'd be battling beneath the sun, the slides, in the swings, on the ground, inside the classroom, everywhere. Literally, everyplace, we'd find each other in.

I know Ruppen since I got to know, what loathing someone means and how it feels. He was and still is the first person I have ever hated, with all of my heart.

In many books, movies and even in the words of savant people, I've heard them say, "Hating someone is equivalate to loving them." They also say, "Even though it might be maddening, it is the truth, an indisputable truth." To which I must say- my hypothesis collides with 'that' theory. How can love and hate be the same? The feelings attached- (let's not take into account adrenaline, norepinephrine, oxytocin, and vasopressin, or even dopamine-for now!) just the feeling of HATRED(With no spotting parallels between the neurotransmitters that are released when we are in love and when we are in hate, in between.)

When you are in love, you see, hear and feel them. You want to cuddle, coddle, nuzzle, nestle, mollycoddle, and pamper them. Right? But, when you are in hate with someone all you want to do is kick him, pull his hair, kill him and do all sorts of stuff that you'd never do with someone you love. Significantly, you aren't going to hug, or kiss someone you hate, would you?! EWWW! I'd rather eradicate myself than live for that day to come…