It may seem like they hate your guts, but they must love you.
It's like when I went to my grandparents' house in Soviet Texas. During that time, there was a gay lock-down, and anybody who looked fat and gay would be shot and killed on sight.
I pleaded my grandparents to let me in their house, they said no. Haha, hate? Nah, tough love from ol' gramps. But that wasn't convincing enough, so I barged my way in and threw a knife against his kneck and said "I love you, grandpa." After that, they did not throw me out. They hid me under five feet of solid titanium, and said it was because if they found me they'd kill us all, but they still hate me down to an atomic level. But it was because they loved me, I can guarantee it; no hate. After the lock-down, I set out after receiving a stern kick in the ass from my grandpa, and a being hit over the head with a cooking pot by my grandma, and then started to roll around in the corpses of my fallen brethren whilst laughing like a maniac. They love me, I tell you. :3