Confessions from the shame spiral

I remember when I was in grade school, maybe grade 2 or 3, I slipped and feel down the stairs going to recess and all the kids coming down just stepped on me. It was like I wasn’t even a person, just an obstacle in their path. No manners, no decency, just animals making their way to the watering hole. I curse these people because I have a hard time forgiving certain actions. They are imprinted on my brain and in my darkest hour I recollect them like fireflies trapped in a jar.

After coming to this country, Canada, I witnessed the cruelty of children. Little hellions, fun-sized bastards with sparse moral centres. Maybe that event gave me a deeper sense of awareness, a more mature consciousness than that of my peers. I used to think a lot and contemplate life, the universe, god and all else. It’s possible that such debasing and coarse experiences bring forth enlightenment. In Buddhism life is pain and suffering and there is no escape from this. If you embrace it as a never-ending eventuality you can attain some peace or maybe even Nirvana. Smells like a corrupt spirit to me. Nevermind.

The only helpful way to deal with the past is acceptance and learning from it. There’s a lot to garner from the bad times, the focal horror points that clasp your psyche and leak out distilled bitterness. The sublime traumedy as it were. What more is there to say I do not know at this time. I dislike remembering these things over and over again, why can’t we choose which memories to repress? I guess it ain’t so bad, love is much worse.


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