the philosophy of hurt

I can feel a crisis coming on, another soul-scrape on the approach. I don’t like it.

 

It’s always triggered by being treated less than human; by another person stonewalling me, making me second-guess what’s going on, making my brain go into overdrive trying to work out if I’m being played like a first class fiddle.

 

It’s the same situation over and over – when I’m made to realise I once again pinned my happiness on another. I can’t do that. None of us can. People let you down. It’s as certain as death and taxes. They may not mean to, but eventually it happens; whether they fuck you over, or die on you, they let you down.

 

I have to learn to rely on myself. Only I can make me happy. Why do I still let external situations affect me? All they do is place me right back in the same spot – the bottom of the hole, where I once again have to work like buggery to climb my way out of it.

 

I am sick to death of crying into my sleeves.

 

If only there was a way to remove the person from the acts they do to you, life would be so much simpler. There would be no more hurt, no more retaliation, none of this “you hurt me so much I’m going to hurt you back”.

 

It’s such an automated response; we all do it, and we might not even want to. I know I do when I’m too weak to have restraint. I hate that about me. I want to be able to put what the person’s done behind me, and just start rediscovering my own happiness. I don’t want all this focus on the hurt and anger and pain.

the philosophy of anger

This could have turned into a rant of epic proportions, full of evisceration, vituperation, and other long words that demand to be spat out onomatopoeically. Castration. Yes, it could have been filled with the essence of castration. But it won’t be.

 

Instead, I’m just going to write about what I’ve learnt. After all, this is meant to be where I sift through the shit that happens to me on the search for kernels of philosophy (pardon the imagery).

 

An online news blog turned ugly when the blogger decided to get down and dirty regarding the death of a friend. He saw nothing wrong with laughing at jokes made at the dead person’s expense. He tore the people who mourned her to shreds and offered up their remains to his faithful followers to finish off. A blaze of belittlement.

 

It made me recognise what humanity is, by its very absence.

 

The argument was put forth that why should someone who didn’t know the deceased “give a toss” about her death. For all he knew the person didn’t really die, and only pretended to die to see what kind of reaction they could get and now they were just sitting back laughing. That is so void of compassion it sucks the air out of my lungs.

 

I went to bed seething, absolutely seething. Rage really is red.

 

There’s no way to sleep when the body’s in full fight mode, so I tried to calm myself down by recognising what was happening in my body and brain – turning inward in order to turn off.

 

It suddenly struck me how hot the top of my head felt. It was so hot I pictured a flame sitting atop it, just like a candle.

 

That’s when I realised – rage and anger will just burn a person down like a candle until there’s nothing left but a waxy stub and a charred piece of wick.

 

I don’t want to become a wax puddle. Especially not over the uninformed ramblings of a so-called writer.

 

So now all he gets from me is my pity. He’s lost his humanity and god knows how a writer can write anything without that.