thin lines

There is a very, very thin string that separates many pairs of things…

Insanity and Intelligence
Concern and Manipulation
Criticism and Verbal Abuse
Love and Hate
Art and Obscenity

And it is sometimes hard to distinguish one from the other.

We ask these questions more than we think. A torrent of inquiries weary my poor soul.

Is my writing mere madness or sheer genius?

Was his “suggestions” really about knowing what is best for me or about knowing what is best for him?

Was his painful tirades regarding who I am and how I do things a mere criticism I took so sensitively or was it really already a form of verbal abuse?

How can one tell?

We cannot really judge a person unless we have walked in the very same path he has. We can only surmise based on the effects we experience, but we know not the nightmares that trouble the soul of the garbage dumper, toxic person and trouble maker who cross our paths. We can imagine his pain, because he just gets so haunted by his own monsters. So much so that it is getting in the way of making things work or even getting a civilized relationship.

The Bible says that we see what a tree is based on its fruits. For an apple tree can never give birth to a banana. Or something to that effect.

So all these restless nights, the painful rewinds of injurious words and insults that make me question my self worth, the constellation of pimples, the weight gain, the stress on my face, the additional ten years on my aura, the dread of having to hear the phone ring because of another painful string of insults…

Weigh that against the material things, all the achievements and what nots that I got too…

I need not say more regarding what fruits has been produced and which bears more weight.

No matter how thinly the line is in dividing certain things, there is a thing called too much pain and numbness that creeps in when you try to ignore the more pressing symptoms.

When you do not deal with the pain caused by another and you just let people dump their emotional garbage on you, you actually become a monster too. Because only monsters can cope with the ugliest and deplorable situations that is no longer acceptable for humans.

And when you already feel so dead that when you look in the mirror and see only a deathly, ghastly reflection of the happy and bubbly person you were, you realize that something in you died. That the thin line, careful as you were, was crossed. Not just once. But a thousand times over.

Again.

There is that journey of crossing back and going to the normal side. The healthy side. The side that does not give you a barrage of negative vibes enough to kill Holocaust victims faster than Hitler could have commanded it.

But that journey might have to be done alone. To each his own. Because holding hands might just increase the casualties and snowball the bad effects.

And when things are okay, you don’t cross that same bridge which brought you hell to begin with.

What meaning is there in material things, in “security” for the future, in the best restaurants and the finest of things when deep inside you have become rotten, paralyzed and unable to become fulfilled because life suddenly became for you being a puppet acting on another’s strings?

Let’s cut those situations that make us tread on thin lines. To begin with, the persons who really love us and genuinely care for us will never even attempt to drive us to the edge of our sanity just to have his perfect Utopian way.

Thin lines in my thoughts tonight. But I am not going to develop thin lines on my face just by thinking about it or dwelling on it.

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