A quote was brought to my attention today, a proverb to the effect of those who put up with insult are actually inviting injury.
I am one of those people who shakes off insults because, well, once you consider the source, I mean — really. Trainwrecks cannot look at non-fusterclucks without hoping they will reach their own lows. And if everyone doesn’t collapse into a sobbing mess on the floor, then said trainwrecks will do their damndest to take everyone down with them — the stronger the person, the better.
I’ve been following the blog of one such trainwreck (although if you happen to be a trainwreck, this message is for you too), and I have to refrain with all my might from leaving a comment or 20 about the “woe is me, pity me, waaaah nobody loves me/everybody hates me/gonna go eat worms” bullshit that spews forth from every stupid ass entry he makes.
I don’t even know why I read it. Well, yeah I do — I know the full story behind it. I know the person he’s unjustly attacking, the facts he’s not revealing, the reality in which he never steps foot. (Do we not all have one of these in our lives?)
The thing is, I leave well enough alone with the blog of the person I don’t really know. I read it, I ponder it, and I commiserate with my friend who is wondering WTF synapse happened in his head where the sensitivity or at least the smart gene used to be. I hope he doesn’t go beyond using words to wound her. And I hope even that gets old someday soon. I don’t wish him love or luck — I wish him a fucking lightning bolt up his ass that jolts him back into the real world.
One thing I struggle with, as someone who often ends up being the better person because somebody’s got to be, is the proclivity of persons of faith to forgive, forget and make amends. I forgive. I refuse to forget — I have documentation going back decades. I have a great propensity to get revenge by moving on with my life and not looking back. My survival is contingent on focusing my energies on what will propel me forward and not on looking back, wondering what was done and what could have been done differently. That would imply that I care. And I sure as hell will never lie to you and god damn it, if I don’t care, I am so not going to fake it.
Which brings me to some very touching e-mails from folks who think I’m wishing an untimely end on them. Jesus Christ, nobody but nobody I keep in my circle would ever be hurtful or petty or downright terrorizing like what’s motivating my posting today. I don’t want negative energy in my life and I refuse to keep it around me when it shows up. I am a good person who tries very hard to pay attention to life lessons and learn from them and live by them.
I don’t fight losing battles. I find my happiness right where I stand. If I can’t help you, I step back and refuse to hurt you. If you hurt me, I usually let it slide. But no more. No fucking more — hear me?
So when you, you petty little fucker, decide to not only assault me via text with deliberate misspellings so you think I might be thrown off the case, think again. If you want to use the “n” word in reference to anyone I love, whether it’s my niece or anyone I date or othewise hold in high esteem, you may reserve the right to get your dick caught in a vise. We don’t see color (or even gender) here at Chez Dawn. We look for the heart, the promise, the inner light. Maybe we didn’t always, but after not finding it for so long where we were looking for it, we wised the hell up and suggest others do the same.
When we see a cold rotted stump where a soul had once grown, that’s when we call it for what it is — a lost cause. I think you know where this is leading.
If you want to talk smack about the people who have been true friends to me, the people who were not only friends through the good times but who also loved and supported me through the terrible times that not only did you step on my head and screw me over through, but that I suspect strongly that you CAUSED, again, feel free to fall off a cliff.
Sometimes I think I don’t deserve those wonderful people in my life. But I’m wrong on that. I don’t deserve the crap I took from everyone else. Again, let’s envision where this is leading.
If you, so help me, think that your opinions of who I am and what I am not and what I do or don’t look like or what the fuck ever runs through that twisted little brain of yours could ever matter to me again, wake up to the pot of coffee being poured over your head. The lower your blows that come, the more I think to myself, “Yeah, I was right about you.”
Prove me wrong.
Prove to me that you can be the man you want to be.
Prove to all of us that — despite some poor judgment calls and threats and property damage and wounding comments you’ve made to so many people throughout the years — you’re on your way to becoming the man God intended you to be. That you are someone to be loved, not feared or loathed. That you are someone strong, who can be looked up to as an example of strength and fortitutde and knowledge.
Prove to me that you’re the person I saw so long ago — the inner you that no one else took the time to get to know, to nurture, to cherish. I don’t see that person anymore. I haven’t seen that person in ages. I tend to wonder sometimes if I only imagined it.
But, don’t try to prove it to me personally. Lead a good life, live by example to others and leave well enough alone those bridges that got singed along the way. I know you’re out there. You don’t have to remind me. Let’s cherish the good times that did exist — because they did and we know it. It’s just that, past a certain point, there can’t be any more of those, not with this magnitude of heartache.
I don’t want to fear you. I don’t want to pity you. I don’t want to know you. Not anymore. All you think you know about me is what you glean from this Web site. I can’t keep you from reading it, but I ask you to respect what is here. It is a piece of my heart, but just that. I want to continue to share myself and continue feeling and believing in all the world has to offer. I’m not about to let you or anyone destroy that hope and faith in the world and in myself.
I’ve kept silent for far too long. I never thought you’d listen. I never thought you’d get it. I never felt like you could identify. And I never wanted to waste my time.
You wanted a rise out of me — this is it. But I’m accustomed to being hurt — you of all people have known me so well and know how to break my heart with one shot. But I can’t give you that anymore. You forfeited your right to matter to me. I would never, ever stand up for you, not after all you’ve done to me. So get that fucking fake and forced reference from me off your Web site, or else they look me up and give me a call.
So, take the love you once had for me and give it away. Do something nice for someone else. Donate a dollar to charity for everything you’ve ever done to try to destroy me.
Share your gifts. Open your heart and use it only for good. Love instead of resent. Someone, somewhere, will thank you for it. And even though you might never hear it, it might just be me who is most proud of you for living the life you’ve always wanted.