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I know why the caged Ood sings
Apr. 20th, 2008 02:51 amI am sitting in the dark while I'm supposed to be writing about Hosea, and how he married an adulteress at the command of God, and how she left him, and wandered, finding others as they suited her and abandoning husband and children before Hosea took her back, loving her as God loves Israel.
In the scheme of stories that confirm my bouts of dystheism, this is very near the top. It is spiteful and abusive to command that the love of two people be rended when humans suffer enough after the fall from being torn apart by love. It is the most unnatural part of our fallen nature, unrequited love. We were meant to be together, one joined to another naturally and completely and fruitfully. Creation was good, and it is not Good, it is evil, for man to be alone. It perverts us, it makes us bitter, self-interested, uncaring, indolent, and spiteful. It causes us to rebuke the good for the pain it causes us, rather than to pursue it.
I feel disconnected from everyone. It's not anhedonia, it's not dysphoria, it's just isolation. I am not integral to anyone else, I don't matter to anyone else, and it's eating me. For about 9 hours I mattered in the life of someone I loved, and then the person he loved came back, and it's back to pinch hitting and editing papers as my major contributions to the lives of people I care about. Second string soul doctor, the guy whose only skill is listening to whom nobody has anything to say, and general has-been before the age of twenty.
I want to sin, and sin boldly. If I'm going to languish, deprived of the sacraments, I want it to be major. I want to get high, run away, be slutty, destroy something beautiful, and truly participate in evil, rather than the sins of the mind which do not provide release or beatitude, which calm neither the animalistic urges to fuck and kill and hurt nor the yearning of the soul to find goodness. But let's face it, I'm not attractive enough to be slutty and I'd stop myself from destruction. I'm not even capable of sinning properly. He gets to leave a person he loves madly, get someone else to offer anything to help him through it, get drunk, be irresponsible, get the person he loves back, and still get out unscathed, and at the slightest nudge over the line I'm pulled back, frustrated and unsated.
So I snipe and bitch. I blow up at people I barely know. I contemplate self-harm then don't go through with it. I sit in a dark room, sober, at 3 AM. Pathetic.
Why does nobody think this way? Why is mine the only mind I've encountered that works like this, with these notions of what is good, with these behavioural codes, with this desire to be touched, with this need to serve and in turn be appreciated and loved for it? Why was I given so alien a set of traits? Which Saint or pope or council pronounced the anathema on people like me, and why didn't it hold? I hate being like this. I want to not care. I want to tell you all individually to go fuck yourselves and to enumerate in excruciating and explicit detail exactly what is wrong with each of you, and instead I have three legal pad pages of me doing it to myself.
The world is dark, and I am drowning. Help me.
In the scheme of stories that confirm my bouts of dystheism, this is very near the top. It is spiteful and abusive to command that the love of two people be rended when humans suffer enough after the fall from being torn apart by love. It is the most unnatural part of our fallen nature, unrequited love. We were meant to be together, one joined to another naturally and completely and fruitfully. Creation was good, and it is not Good, it is evil, for man to be alone. It perverts us, it makes us bitter, self-interested, uncaring, indolent, and spiteful. It causes us to rebuke the good for the pain it causes us, rather than to pursue it.
I feel disconnected from everyone. It's not anhedonia, it's not dysphoria, it's just isolation. I am not integral to anyone else, I don't matter to anyone else, and it's eating me. For about 9 hours I mattered in the life of someone I loved, and then the person he loved came back, and it's back to pinch hitting and editing papers as my major contributions to the lives of people I care about. Second string soul doctor, the guy whose only skill is listening to whom nobody has anything to say, and general has-been before the age of twenty.
I want to sin, and sin boldly. If I'm going to languish, deprived of the sacraments, I want it to be major. I want to get high, run away, be slutty, destroy something beautiful, and truly participate in evil, rather than the sins of the mind which do not provide release or beatitude, which calm neither the animalistic urges to fuck and kill and hurt nor the yearning of the soul to find goodness. But let's face it, I'm not attractive enough to be slutty and I'd stop myself from destruction. I'm not even capable of sinning properly. He gets to leave a person he loves madly, get someone else to offer anything to help him through it, get drunk, be irresponsible, get the person he loves back, and still get out unscathed, and at the slightest nudge over the line I'm pulled back, frustrated and unsated.
So I snipe and bitch. I blow up at people I barely know. I contemplate self-harm then don't go through with it. I sit in a dark room, sober, at 3 AM. Pathetic.
Why does nobody think this way? Why is mine the only mind I've encountered that works like this, with these notions of what is good, with these behavioural codes, with this desire to be touched, with this need to serve and in turn be appreciated and loved for it? Why was I given so alien a set of traits? Which Saint or pope or council pronounced the anathema on people like me, and why didn't it hold? I hate being like this. I want to not care. I want to tell you all individually to go fuck yourselves and to enumerate in excruciating and explicit detail exactly what is wrong with each of you, and instead I have three legal pad pages of me doing it to myself.
The world is dark, and I am drowning. Help me.
