Just a trifle
I’ve been intellectually constipated these past weeks, for all my struggles, not much has come of it, just a type of pain, but it’s will be different now since the projectile is out and the thoughts that were imprisoned now explode in every direction, so to speak, just like diarrhoea. That’s a metaphor. I find metaphors to be very powerful tools as they can paint a precise and colourful picture which conveys exactly or close enough that which I seek to describe.
The darkness (also metaphorical) I’ve felt and what I’ve been alluding to, which have been clouding my vision of late, I’ve done some soul searching, and it’s been my avoidance to acknowledge or pay heed to my own negative emotions. Always having had the feeling that my problems or pain, such as they are, are mere trifles, and that in reality since I’m so well off and successful and accomplished and privileged and blessed and all that, that it’s wrong for me in general to complain when the world is so full of misery and war and the Black Death.
That’s why I was so captured by the Count of Monte Christo sentiment that “there is no happiness or misery in this world, just the comparison of one state to another” or something along those lines; That it’s our own experiences by which we gauge the happiness or sorrow that we feel, and nothing else. That’s really something. It’s not only that the low points in life serve with the yin yang as an inverse to the high ones, which gets bigger by comparison, it’s also that this whole frame of reference is very personal.
Like there was this episode of Bachelor where they had a group date, the bachelor told a darkness from his past, he had ADHD and had a miserable school time, then they took turns opening up: one girl had an abusive violent ex, the second she had been suicidal, and the third who was a model used to have ADHD and a bad Acne. All of them were scarred by their pasts and it’s pointless to compare them with each other, because it wasn’t a competition or anything. The point was to be vulnerable together or some dumb shit like that. For the viewers. Anyhow
Anyhow
What’s been bothering me is that my sister which I used to love just doesn’t care about me. It’s been bothering me that I’ve gifted her stuff and bought her trips to Tallinn, even painted masterpiece paintings and been really making an effort to stay in touch, and she couldn’t even be bothered to let me know that she wasn’t interested in maintaining our relationship, not even when I asked. It bothers me that it took me several years of fruitless effort before I realised what is blatantly obvious, and it bothers me most of all that I haven’t moved past it yet, when It’s just a trifle.
But now that I’ve said it I shall move on (at some point). I don’t have to quantify the love that I felt or the importance that my sister has had in my life to justify my sadness.
That was the perl of wisdom in my shit which solved my intellectual constipation. Like a laxative.
That sadness does not have to be justified, just acknowledged.