unlove

— Disgust, nausea, loathing—some aspects of yourself and others surely deserve such abhorrent gut responses. But disgust doesn't create suffering— recoil does. Separation is the act of unlove.

— I have told you, reader, that I had learnt to love Mr. Rochester: I could not unlove him now, merely because I found that he had ceased to notice me--because I might pass hours in his presence, and he would never once turn his eyes in my direction--because I saw all his attentions appropriated by a great lady, who scorned to touch me with the hem of her robes as she passed; who, if ever her dark and imperious eye fell on me by chance, would withdraw it instantly as from an object too mean to merit observation.