ALL TRU!SM:

Not only did he sabotage my courtship with a woman who was certainly the only chance I ever had of getting laid in twenty years. He then date raped this woman, whom I loved, leaving her to die of paranoia, augmenting those suicidal ideations which had driven me to her protection to begin with and which probably had drawn her Soul towards me, seeking sanction. As my life dissolved in trying to salvage her and repair the damage, he exploited her perverse attachment to him with both utter pride and apathy, even besmirching her image, calling her “demonic”, most probably well after they had slept together five times and under the influence of drugs which he’d supplied. Though I offered him recourse and lease, he used the opportunity to demonstrate a sort of dominance, so that when her attempts to win his favor failed, her life depending on success, he not only refused to help, but he accused me of having produced this travesty. Whereas ordinarily my guilty conscience is my guide towards transcendence, for the first time in my life I think I found it turned against me, for he managed to reach such a depth of sheer depravity that I felt guilty by default of being in his species, and of course his outlook was such that I was simply the lesser male of this same species’ gene pool. Years I’ve spent trying to remedy deficiencies which never were my own, only under the burden of a concept that he could not prove but that I could no more disprove than extricate from my mind or undo. If ever my good graces had been more abused, they were by my ex-girlfriend, someone whom he cannot claim to be an unrelated anecdote revealing something of my character, for it was she that he would use to justify his treachery, though never had he done a thing to shelter me from her own malice, and the time that past since she broke up with me was greater by each measurement than that which has past since I met this recent tragedy I called my one true love. When I learned that she was involved with him again, against my wishes and her promise to me, by some blackmail or delusion, I confronted him as best I could, only to learn that some expressions of my tortured heart, which by then reached a pitch of hatred I had not imagined possible previously, and towards him, had found their way into his knowledge, so that somehow by being presented as a “hateful message” TOWARDS her one might think that the hate was INTENDED FOR her (for if this had not been true, his argument would have been foolish, and transparently so, but the good graces of any audience, the living proof that his worldview is mad, would hear only that which accords him undue dignity, turning his pointless truth into a pointed lie). I never hated her. Her weakness simply angered me. 

For it destroyed her ultimately. 

It was not long after she had died that he began to use another woman. Somehow he had established himself as the alpha male, reducing all my desperation, first to help, then to love, then to save, to impotence and to inferiority. Somehow I had to wrestle with the World which he had turned against me in my mind and often in reality, herself included. Somehow I felt guilty for her death, though not because his accusations carried any weight, but rather because it was through me that he met her, and that same fact which reminds me of my innocence now burdens me with guilt, for I was not the only victim of my trust and my naivete. He cleared his name, in petty semblance, of moral inferiority, condemning even my own righteous condescension to his foregone and ignoble dominance. My single plan, my solitary goal, justified by a Great Agenda which I only dimly comprehended, was to keep My Love alive. This plan he vilified, condemning her to die in utter solitude even as he dismissed my moral high ground in attempting to protect her, as if that ground were equally his own.

Did I mention that he vandalized my keyboard? It was a birthday present from my parents when I was first starting to compose in high school. I played it for my Hero’s Journey presentation in Ms. Rowan’s class. I wrote my first few songs upon it. We would jam with it when I still craved his company within my band. I brought it to his Mother’s Condominium under the auspices of getting that same band together, since she needed it. It took me many moons to get it back. I live ten minutes from his home. But he’s not one to answer when it’s inconvenient for him to do so.

Anyone who can respect him is a suicidal wreck. I cannot say I scapegoat him, for I own all of my own darkness in this exposition, clear about how he attempted to use that same darkness to subvert and contradict my Light. It’s either him or me. He made that clear. All of my life has been a preparation for this battle. If there’s any life beyond this, either in this lifetime or the next, it will come only when his reign is over.

I survive just to survive him.

Dm.A.A.

M!CA!AH: (666 mots.)

How could you probably suggest that Fascist and barbaric dictate that all must be fair, before the fact, in love and war? Must it not be MADE fair only AFTER the fact that these heavy burdens are charged with the same dictates as the rest of Life is? CLEARLY in a pursuit so engaging as love and sex only the most stringent moral minds can be regarded as attractive and deserving, and I tire of that madness that would haunt me otherwise. Nobody WANTS to be on the receiving end of this injustice, so it is impossible to justify, ever. I never would submit to such a conflict unless I were lied to prior to the fact. You cannot say that it is justified because others seek only the same happiness which *I* seek, for it’s clear that if my seeking this same happiness is just then they are INJUST by inhibiting my own pursuit of it, and NO one can be justified in seeking it if ANY one could ever be inhibited by the pursuit of it in the pursuit of it; that’s just as mad as it would sound. The Categorical Imperative is not “treat others in the way you THINK that they WOULD treat you, given power”, but “treat others in the way that YOU DESIRE TO BE TREATED”. By that definition, yes: let me not to the marriage of true minds admit impediments. True love cares little if the woman is a bimbo or the man is a drug addict. It cares little if both sufferers involved suffer from sheer delusion. If they’re happy, you can’t judge them, yet no honest man or woman can be HAPPY leading a relationship which, by its NATURE, causes strife, and to that same extent that we desire for our passions to be VINDICATED by relationship, those same passions are VILIFIED, rightfully so, when they inhibit the expression of an other’s passion. No two people can bypass my rights and needs by some sort of emotivist conspiracy, and I will NEVER be accused of harbouring their evil in potential form by those whose sins are written all over their hands. The injured party must submit to no insult, to add to injury, for being innocent and trusting, for one’s sole mistake to be to trust, and for the fact that others, failing to atone for the mistake by honouring the purity of the intent, to turn that same mistake towards lesser purposes. What purpose could be lesser than a competition without the consent of the competitors? What could be closer to rape? And what, fundamentally, would be more repulsive to the sexual instinct in rational and altruistic beings?? The injured critic is not blamed for one’s own misery, for no such misery could ever have been self-inflicted. Criticism does not make for misery; it barely even can be said that misery alone has caused it. Criticism is not judged by the effect it has upon the critic, so how can the critic thus be judged for the effect his criticism SEEMS to have upon him? Must we not conclude that that same criticism was not the CAUSE of the misery, but rather that it sought to remedy and to redress it? CLEARLY criticism must be judged not by projection of “intent” upon the critic but a recognition of the critic’s TRUE intent according to the facts which criticism has exposed in its responses to injustice. What could be more moving, sympathetic, stirring or Romantic? After all: those same Romantics who had deified Shakespeare knew that the purest of heart was the unrequited lover, for in spite of total isolation, even from the object of his love, he could pursue that love which did not alter when it alteration found, which TRULY answered only to its own virtue and power, knowing that consent was just conspiracy against its relatively noble nature. THAT alone is fair in love and in war. Everything else is barbaric and absurd.

[({Dm.A.A.)}]

EGO:

I think that finally I understand it. You see, if I had been selfish in the slightest then I would have done my part to keep this all from happening. I would be led then to believe, or I am led NOW to believe, that he would have had no regrets about it. But lo and behold: I let it happen, without knowing it was possible. And now that I hate him for doing it, he feels betrayed!! Had I simply restricted him, then he would have been blameless, but of COURSE I am a fool for not having EXPECTED him to so betray my trust. This is not mitigated by the fact he KNOWS exactly what he did. Now he seems to believe I wish to salvage my own selfishness, for altruism failed to get me what I want, and by doing so LATE I can afford to blame him for it. Well: he’s right. I CAN afford to blame him for it. But the fact remains that I salvage my self-interest because I was NOT self-interested to begin with, so selfishness does not concern my character. There’s no way around that fact. People like him just cannot help but tear me down. They know I’m smart enough to see the worst in them, and so long as I do that I corroborate their view of EVERY one. Even if it is ONLY them that I find evil in, by scapegoating them for the evils of my Life I only prove myself to be a part of those same Evils of the World. It’s really very cowardly of him. I’m smart enough to see right through it, but I want more than to be intelligent. I really want to be KIND, like I was when I was young, before I even knew that I was smart. Intelligence people would recognize in me, but kindness I saw in myself before they did. It is too personal to squander on those who are so divorced from it they think it to be a delusion. I get people. It’s just that if I cannot fool myself into believing they are Better, or that they CAN be, then I risk going totally insane. I MUST gamble upon them, constantly, in order to feel totally alive. I must make myself vulnerable. Just to try to prove what only by an act of courage in this way can I prove: that someone would follow my example, and by doing so the World becomes a brighter, better place. I think they KNOW that that is what I’m doing. And they know that it’s so crazy that I have to tell myself that I will never be betrayed, that evil is a figment of my own imagination, just to keep on doing it. Yet so what if I’m proven wrong? So what if I can’t sleep, while he is fucking someone that I love to death? So what? I saw it coming. It was just my ego which could not accept it. Most egos will work towards the establishment of some dominion within the World. Mine cannot do that; it must by necessity EXPECT accommodation, for my Soul accommodates it as it nurtures all Beings. Nothing can justify the slight against my Soul. But while my Soul can weather it, my mind cannot. My Soul knows there’s this Other Side to people. But my ego’s not a coward for ignoring it. It’s still the ego of a hero. When these cowards see my ego writhing, they see themselves in it, terrified of ever being put into its posture. That is why they are not communists; the greatest evil in their world is that which forces them to trust their neighbours, knowing just how evil their neighbours can be, for they are themselves just as evil. But is that not enough reason to be forced to be Better?? Of course it is, and I do not deny that’s easy for me to say. I’ve earned that right by giving so much of my own Life up to Human Life Itself. So what do these cowards do? They see my ego writhing, and they seem themselves within it, and they think it foolish for having allowed itself to fall into despair, pretending towards that Dignity which no ego can have, projecting that same Dignity upon others as if that burden was their own. But this says nothing of the Soul. For that ego was noble, loyal to the Soul as friends are loyal to each other. And the Soul needed the ego to look past the evils of the World and to see some Good in these people, even at their most horrid of moments. That was why I could not sleep. Because my waking mind had had enough.

[({Dm.A.A.)}]