His insightful description regarding different human beings is really a joy to read.
Whereas my internal injuries is from, mainly to say, self affliction. I used to describe my self-afflicting act as masochistic. But then I realized I'm not a masochist at all, yes I do hurt myself psychologically and I do it on a regular basis but there is no satisfaction yield. Rather, guilt and annoyance and frustration are the common products. Thus I know that I hurt myself not out of boredom to get off but out of habits.
Slow but fatal habits to hurt myself.
My mama is a cheerful and positive person. She always sees the good side of people and always feel that it is better to forgive than rebuke. I'm the direct opposite of her. I don't see the positive side of people but get more impressed when someone accidentally reveals a darker side. Yup the word is indeed 'impressed.' And when people make mistakes, oh please, the word 'forgive' is never in my dictionary. I wiould first rebuke, then remark, full of insults of course and isolate at last.
Mama said I will hurt myself eventually if I'm to be so hardened and unforgiving. She's right and wrong. Right that I hurt myself and wrong about 'eventually', I sense the pain and torture at the same time while I am tormenting others.
Ah surprisingly I do. Evidence of the presence of a conscience? Maybe.
Then I questioned myself: why this habit? What had exactly happened to me so much so that such a deadly habit is induced? What can I do to get rid of it, when these toxicating thoughts buried its root since a time I'm not even aware of?
I struggled.
Struggled and struggled because I couldn't find a solution. Whenever I'm facing people or being entrapped in a large crowd my senses all sharpened and they are screaming at me to look at their flaws.
"She's talking in such an idiotic way!"
"He's bloody dirty and disgusting! Haven't you smell the taste of instant noodle off his shirt?!"
"All the bloody crowd should die! Crowding and pushing you like this!"
The aftermath hurts me. Slowly. I feel every tremble of guilt slapping right in my face and I see, yes literally see, verses of scripture showing in front of my eyes and sounds of mocking ringing in my ear. I then swallowed my saliva, as if the guilt can be swallowed and digested by similar acidic medium in my stomach.
I prayed and called for help. The next day, oh well not so far, the next hour, I struggled again.
Struggled and fought and lost and prayed.
This peculiar cycle, honestly, is killing me. Sometimes I just want to give up on praying and slip into the devilish way as I seemingly meant to be. Yet the Holy Spirit yells out to me to cling on. I did cling on. Then the cycle repeats.
As if this single cycle is not enough, I have to put up a strong front whenever I'm facing my friends and families. I must smile and be funny, childish, cute, graceful, caring and innocent. People said this is split personality but I said this is an excellent cover-up that I skillfully mastered to survive in this world.
Everyday I struggled. Internally, when I'm smiling and telling jokes, I struggled. Internally, when I'm listening a lecture, I struggled. Internally, when I'm on the public transports, I struggled.
It seems ridiculous I know and it may even seem fallacious to some of you. Yet the world is a peculiar place and peculiar things can happen. Apply Murphy's theory please.
Mama said it took time for me to get out of the cycle because it is also a process of growth.
"Growth of what?"
"Your mind, obviously."
"For all you know I may die before I reach that grown stage. These struggles kill me. They will kill me one day."
"Patience...be more forgiving and observant..."
"I wish I'm you. All the positivity and genuine cheerfulness."
"Well I don't know how it comes to me honestly."
"Genetics," I whispered, rather to myself.
Genetics.
Fists clenched.
Lord help me.
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