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Love, is like a plant.

You nurture it daily, with nutrients that it hungers for. Eventually, depending on the effort that you've put into it, it blooms, blossoms, bears fruit.

People don't dwell much upon it, but Hate, the twin that lurks in Love's shadow, is also like a plant.

You also have to nurture it daily, lest it withers away. Again, eventually, depending on the effort invested, it bears fruit too. The best cared-for plants yield the most succulent of fruits.

I've been thinking about it a lot, especially after Spiderman forgave the Sandman in his recent movie outing. It made a lot of sense then - why labor daily to feed venom (hurhur no pun intended) to this gnarly twisted plant that is Hate, when its fruits are bitter and vile?

Therefore, logically, there seems to be no reason for us to Hate anything. For Hate corrupts us, burdening us with its endless echoes of anger, chaining us to a past we do not need.

Alas, alas, nothing is as simple as it is in the movies. For while much romantic ink has been spilt to chronicle the wonders of the fruits of love, not a lot has been devoted to the fruits of Hate. Harry Potter, for example, continually espouses Love as the one defining mark of humanity.

But you may one day discover that the fruits of Hate are useful in their own way. For every single inedible blackened apple on my desk serves as a reminder of a painful lesson learnt, so that I need not convert my living quarters into a greenhouse.

Lucky Spiderman.