Well since you asked, friend-
Just a quick rebuttal to your bullshit…

I could say some things to you,
and you could tell me I’m your hater.

Hater. What a word that really is.

It’s not a label, you can’t stamp me with it, I will not wear it.
I encourage you to believe whatever you want, though,
it doesn’t change the contents of a can.
If I am a can, the label says Luke.
And lots of ingredients comprise a can of Luke.
Speaking as one, I know this to be true firsthand.

All the same, you can call me a hater and not be wrong.

You know know who’s a real hater? Chef Boyardee.
But that’s a different story for a different day.
And don’t get me started on that hamburger helper.
That cockyass little white glove. I fucking hate him.
But again that’s a different story.

Anyway, where were we…

Words change meaning over time.
And cannotate differently in different places.
And may mean more than one thing simultaneously.
Depending on whom you ask, and the context of a word’s use,
any word may convey any number of things.

Such as how the word faggot can mean a bundle of sticks,
a person who is just a fucking douchebag,
or it can be a derogatory reference to a homosexual man.

People have haters. They do. Consider me your very own.
I do not hate you per se, if per se means I consider you my enemy,
but I definitely am your hater, and I am hating on you
right at this very moment in fact.

I’ll put it this way, in case you are struggling to understand:
If I were a bird, and I saw you walking beneath my branch,
I would probably poop on you. I would certainly try.
At least on your car I would poop if on nothing else.

In regards to your blanket statement:
No, no, no, no–no. No. I do not hate myself. I do not.
Far from it. I love myself, actually. I love myself quite a bit.
Even at the risk of revealing my vanity, I love myself. I do.

I love myself a lot.
I do not love you, however. Whatever your name is.
Nor do I hate you. I do not even know you.
But I am hating on you, and therefore, I am your hater.

Yes, you have a hater. Congrats.
You heard it straight from the horse’s mouth.
I am your proof that haters exist.

Who knew a word we hear every fucking day has its place.
Unfathomable.

I only answered you because you requested.
Straight up you had asked for it.
But, being your hater, maybe I’d do this regardless.
That is what haters do.

Peace out, sincerely your
not so secret hater.