I seem to be posting a lot lately (sorry.) Every now and then I get a clear reflection of who I really am, and it’s hard to cope with. I am a bad person. Even when compared to other obviously bad people, I’m unacceptable. I wouldn’t quite say I’m the lowest of the low, but I’m damn close.
Now of course there’s always little things anyone can do to improve themselves. But I’m so far behind, morally and socially, that it seems like no matter how much I try, the best I could hope for would be toleration and pity. I mean if I really work at it, I could be the lonely guy who everyone keeps at a distance but still try to be kind to. The one who you invite to the odd social occasion secretly hoping he won’t come. He makes you a bit uncomfortable, but it seems like he’s trying hard, bless him.
It’s hard to summon up much motivation to strive for that. Maybe it’s pride, or narcissism, or stubbornness. Like I’m above that kind of existence (when really I’m so far below it.) But I think perhaps I’d rather stay beyond the pale, out in the wilderness, than be tolerated and pitied as some broken thing.
I want to say ”Fuck You! You think you’re better than me?” Of course, odds are that you are better than me. I’m in the bottom 1%, morality wise. Statistically speaking, you’re probably in a position to fairly view me with disgust.
But when there’s no way to make up the debt, or wipe the slate clean, or return to an even playing field, it’s hard to accept that gulf. That you’ll never be truly worthwhile or acceptable.
I don’t want to be the broken thing that you look at, with pity or disgust. I don’t want to be the example of what not to do, and how not to live. I don’t want to have my inferiority constantly reflected back at me.
If I can’t be on a par, if I can’t be worthy or truly accepted as part of the tribe, then I think I’d rather cease being altogether.
I don’t want to feel angry with you for being better than me, for being in a position to judge me, though anger and resentment flow easily enough. I’m no Cain. No petulant shooting spree for me. The fault lies with me, not you. I mean, I could trace my flaws back to my biology, and the effects of a somewhat hostile environment. But that wouldn’t be your fault, would it? You were just better placed to succeed at this game we call life. To become a decent and worthwhile person.
Good for you. I wish you well (or at least I try to, when I’m not imagining you being atomised by some global apocalypse.) To the victor go the spoils. Congrats. Not bitter, honest. But I think I’d rather not be here to see it. Limping on alone, while you live your meaningful lives.
I wish I could just stop…but I can’t seem to bring myself to.