Judgment
I told her that one day we will figure out all of her emotions towards me. That one day we, together, will figure out what this is all about.
She approcahes me with a strange mix of affection and disdain. Like she can't believe that she likes me despite all that I stand for. Or maybe she just can't stand me for knowing her so well.
And she is not alone....
I seem to inspire this feeling amongst many of my female friends, and they are usually the ones that come over and spill all at my feet: All their lies, deceits, and hidden desires. All of their "sins", so to speak. It's because I do not judge them that they come to me for confession, and it's also because I refuse to judge them afterwards they seem to hate me. They know I can offer them no absolution, that any confession is supposed to inspire judgment in me. Suppsoed to make me view them as the big bad sinners they are. They all wanna be acknowledged for their sluttiness or cruelty. They want to be viewed as bad. For what is a greater aim of a man than to be regarded as a great sinner?
But I don't judge...
It's all the same to me....
And that's the most offensive part they find of me.
They seem to say: How dare you not judge me? How dare you not recognize how fucked up I am? Tell me I am screwed in the head. That I am a whore. Give me that satisfaction and acknowledgment. Say it to me, so that I can stop saying it to myself. For however cruel your judgment is, it's not as cruel as the one practiced on me by my own mind.
I don't know why I am attracted to them. Why I am so emotionally available for them. Something about filling a bucket that has a hole in it with water. You know that all the oceans of the world won't fill it, but it's fun to try anyway.
She amuses me because of how similar we are in some aspects, and the fact that she knows it and that it scares the shit out of her. She is not alone in that department either, nor is her fear unjustified! She knows how bored I am, and knowing the lengths a person will go to stop being bored, she fears the day when I will spill it all out because I had nothing better to do. She doesn't get that I won't do that because there is nothing amusing about showing the world someone else's scars. Just not my idea of fun!
I seek inspiration, and they offer me the mundane. They confess their little secrets as if they are the most horrible thing in the world. They expect this process to shame them. They believe that there is shame in taking the wrong choice, in actually living while committing one mistake after the other. They are wrong.
It's for greater knowledge of themselves they come to me, and it's because of that knowledge they run away afterwards. Of all the things that scares them, it's their truths that scares them the most. They are used to taking off their cloths in front of others, but they are not used to seeing themselves naked, especially through the eyes of a stranger. One that refuses to Judge them.
It is an insult of the highest degree, isn't it? To see the muck inside your soul and not hate you for it? How dare I make no judgments upon you? How dare I not call you a crazy fucked up Bitch, which is the way you view yourself? How dare I tell you that your sins don't matter, when you worked so hard for them? You paid for those dearly, and you want me to tell you that the value was worth the price. You want me to gaze at you with cruel eyes and acrebic tongue and lay a symphony of vicious insults of how you are lower than filth. You want punishment. You are but one of a million little girls still looking for Daddy to come home and spank them for being naughty. If only Daddy agrees to play along...
There is no hope for them. No salvation nor redemption. They seek atonement for crimes that they wish to be proud of, and then wonder why it all doesn't work. They inner masochist working them over time, demanding them to release more disdain, more hate, more anger towards me, and cover it up with some other flimsy reason. They want a fight. A blow-out of massive proportions where I use every little secret they told me against them. They want to see me enraged. In a way they want me to punish them. I just want them to grow up.
To be honest, only like 4 women I know can be called evolved. Accepters of their own sins. Makers of their own Moral code. Disconnected with society and its rules of civilized behavior, the same rules that breed Hypocrisy in people like a plague. They expect no Judgment, they offer no apology. They are the way they are. Like 'em or hate 'em, this won't change!
And I can't help but admire their defiance. Their unapologetic amorality. Their ability to be ok with their choices, no matter what they have been through. Those are women. The rest are just whiney insecure little girls.
No wonder they are the ones that inspire me the most!
She approcahes me with a strange mix of affection and disdain. Like she can't believe that she likes me despite all that I stand for. Or maybe she just can't stand me for knowing her so well.
And she is not alone....
I seem to inspire this feeling amongst many of my female friends, and they are usually the ones that come over and spill all at my feet: All their lies, deceits, and hidden desires. All of their "sins", so to speak. It's because I do not judge them that they come to me for confession, and it's also because I refuse to judge them afterwards they seem to hate me. They know I can offer them no absolution, that any confession is supposed to inspire judgment in me. Suppsoed to make me view them as the big bad sinners they are. They all wanna be acknowledged for their sluttiness or cruelty. They want to be viewed as bad. For what is a greater aim of a man than to be regarded as a great sinner?
But I don't judge...
It's all the same to me....
And that's the most offensive part they find of me.
They seem to say: How dare you not judge me? How dare you not recognize how fucked up I am? Tell me I am screwed in the head. That I am a whore. Give me that satisfaction and acknowledgment. Say it to me, so that I can stop saying it to myself. For however cruel your judgment is, it's not as cruel as the one practiced on me by my own mind.
I don't know why I am attracted to them. Why I am so emotionally available for them. Something about filling a bucket that has a hole in it with water. You know that all the oceans of the world won't fill it, but it's fun to try anyway.
She amuses me because of how similar we are in some aspects, and the fact that she knows it and that it scares the shit out of her. She is not alone in that department either, nor is her fear unjustified! She knows how bored I am, and knowing the lengths a person will go to stop being bored, she fears the day when I will spill it all out because I had nothing better to do. She doesn't get that I won't do that because there is nothing amusing about showing the world someone else's scars. Just not my idea of fun!
I seek inspiration, and they offer me the mundane. They confess their little secrets as if they are the most horrible thing in the world. They expect this process to shame them. They believe that there is shame in taking the wrong choice, in actually living while committing one mistake after the other. They are wrong.
It's for greater knowledge of themselves they come to me, and it's because of that knowledge they run away afterwards. Of all the things that scares them, it's their truths that scares them the most. They are used to taking off their cloths in front of others, but they are not used to seeing themselves naked, especially through the eyes of a stranger. One that refuses to Judge them.
It is an insult of the highest degree, isn't it? To see the muck inside your soul and not hate you for it? How dare I make no judgments upon you? How dare I not call you a crazy fucked up Bitch, which is the way you view yourself? How dare I tell you that your sins don't matter, when you worked so hard for them? You paid for those dearly, and you want me to tell you that the value was worth the price. You want me to gaze at you with cruel eyes and acrebic tongue and lay a symphony of vicious insults of how you are lower than filth. You want punishment. You are but one of a million little girls still looking for Daddy to come home and spank them for being naughty. If only Daddy agrees to play along...
There is no hope for them. No salvation nor redemption. They seek atonement for crimes that they wish to be proud of, and then wonder why it all doesn't work. They inner masochist working them over time, demanding them to release more disdain, more hate, more anger towards me, and cover it up with some other flimsy reason. They want a fight. A blow-out of massive proportions where I use every little secret they told me against them. They want to see me enraged. In a way they want me to punish them. I just want them to grow up.
To be honest, only like 4 women I know can be called evolved. Accepters of their own sins. Makers of their own Moral code. Disconnected with society and its rules of civilized behavior, the same rules that breed Hypocrisy in people like a plague. They expect no Judgment, they offer no apology. They are the way they are. Like 'em or hate 'em, this won't change!
And I can't help but admire their defiance. Their unapologetic amorality. Their ability to be ok with their choices, no matter what they have been through. Those are women. The rest are just whiney insecure little girls.
No wonder they are the ones that inspire me the most!
posted by The Sandmonkey at 10:25 AM
8 comments
