Kurrs' Digital Tapestry of Words

Recently, alot of things were stripped from me. Or, more appropriately, I lost a few layers, and got back some. I talked ethics with a group of people I had never met before. I slipped on that forgotten skin and talked for hours. Eloquence and conviction dripped from my words and punctuation, a deep river of knowledge I sometimes forget I possess. Not merely an understanding of consumption, but of the system that we exist in. Soviet economics, antitrust legislation, food security, human rights abuses, it seemed that every topic that came up I had a relatively huge wealth of information just sitting around in my head.

I forget that everyone doesn't think about stuff as much as I do. I forget that many people don't possess the breadth and depth of my education, or even if they do they may not have bothered to remember any of it. Or, that their education ended at the doors of the classroom. It felt good, like dancing something you remember the steps to by heart but haven't danced in some time.

I also went to the woman I love, but went in a very different capacity than normal, I went as her friend. Things reached a peak of upsetting events, and it has been hitting her pretty hard. Not many people really know her in any useful sense, and my membership of this minority places a relatively large onus on my being there for her. The timing wasn't the best, and she tried to back out of the request for company, but I knew going would make her feel better, and probably not anything else at that point would of. At least, not anything that would be like to happen in that moment.

However, it had an... unexpected... consequence. The source of all my problems, as a little Russian princess once put it, reared its ugly head. My attraction to emotional pain. The raw, overwhelming outpouring of emotion drew me in, moth to flame, and suddenly all my wonderful little constructed defences fell away. It was bad.

An aside is in order, though. Maybe I feel defensive whenever I bring up that particular vice because, well, it just feels like it could be so bad so easily. Sadism makes me distinctly uncomfortable, and the idea of someone being an emotional sadist frankly turns my stomach. However, the fact remains that emotional pain remains one of the most beautiful things in the world to me. I do not want to cause it, and in fact I feel compelled to help allieviate it, but it doesn't make the beauty of it in the moment diminish. It's probably wrapped up in the fact that people tend to be defenceless and thus guileless while in that much pain. An expression of involuntary honesty, if you will. Also, maybe this particular feeling I only have noticed in those I love. The desire to comfort them being so strong that I actually perceive them as more beautiful, as the comforting urge overrides my other faculties.

Currently Listening: Marilyn Manson - The Golden Age of Grotesque (full album)