There is a particular arrogance in believing one can audit the human soul as though it were a spreadsheet with conditional formatting. Those who speak of ‘expunging the gene pool’ often imagine themselves as lifeguards of evolution, when in fact they have confused the whistle for wisdom.
I once wrote that humanity is a house with too many mirrors and not enough chairs. Addiction is what happens when a person, unable to sit, mistakes their reflection for an exit. To condemn them is simply poor interior design.
The phrase ‘using drugs willingly’ is frequently spoken by people who have never met willingness in its more complicated costumes. Willingness can arrive handcuffed to despair, or wearing the borrowed shoes of trauma, or whispering directions in a voice learned during childhood emergencies.
When someone declares that another deserves death, what they are often requesting is a guarantee... a guarantee that the universe operates on merit alone and that pain will always ask permission before entering their home. This is a child’s cosmology, though many adults keep it laminated in their wallets.
Addiction is a language the body uses when the soul has been given no other dialect. To punish someone for speaking it is like blaming a drowning person for waving too frantically.
Humanity is indeed broken. But breakage is not always a defect. A broken bone, properly tended, grows back stronger. A broken heart, if listened to, learns to speak in clearer sentences.
A culture that seeks to erase its suffering members is not refining itself; it is rehearsing for loneliness. And a person who cheers this erasure should be reminded gently, but firmly, that no one remains pure for long in a species defined by breath.
When someone reduces something to ‘pretty gay,’ I hear not a judgment of the work but a confession of fatigue with their own interior life. Such remarks tend to emerge from people who have learned to treat depth as an inconvenience and sincerity as a social faux pas. This is understandable; many were raised in emotional climates where earnestness was punished for lingering too long.
I do not begrudge them you for your shorthand. Shorthand exists for those who have not yet had the leisure to spell. Still, it is worth noting that dismissiveness is rarely the mark of surplus confidence; it is more often a protective reflex, deployed when one senses they have been invited to feel something without having packed the proper equipment.
If my words seemed indulgent, or excessive, or in need of being waved away with a borrowed adjective, I can only assume they exceeded the listener’s current tolerance for unguarded thought. Do not worry though, you've not a moral failing! You're merely at a developmental stage.
In time, many people discover that what they once mocked as ‘too much’ was simply asking them to arrive more fully than they were prepared to. Until then, I remain patient. Growth, like comprehension, cannot be rushed without breaking something important.
There is a particular arrogance in believing one can audit the human soul as though it were a spreadsheet with conditional formatting. Those who speak of ‘expunging the gene pool’ often imagine themselves as lifeguards of evolution, when in fact they have confused the whistle for wisdom.
I once wrote that humanity is a house with too many mirrors and not enough chairs. Addiction is what happens when a person, unable to sit, mistakes their reflection for an exit. To condemn them is simply poor interior design.
The phrase ‘using drugs willingly’ is frequently spoken by people who have never met willingness in its more complicated costumes. Willingness can arrive handcuffed to despair, or wearing the borrowed shoes of trauma, or whispering directions in a voice learned during childhood emergencies.
When someone declares that another deserves death, what they are often requesting is a guarantee... a guarantee that the universe operates on merit alone and that pain will always ask permission before entering their home. This is a child’s cosmology, though many adults keep it laminated in their wallets.
Addiction is a language the body uses when the soul has been given no other dialect. To punish someone for speaking it is like blaming a drowning person for waving too frantically.
Humanity is indeed broken. But breakage is not always a defect. A broken bone, properly tended, grows back stronger. A broken heart, if listened to, learns to speak in clearer sentences.
A culture that seeks to erase its suffering members is not refining itself; it is rehearsing for loneliness. And a person who cheers this erasure should be reminded gently, but firmly, that no one remains pure for long in a species defined by breath.
that was pretty gay.
When someone reduces something to ‘pretty gay,’ I hear not a judgment of the work but a confession of fatigue with their own interior life. Such remarks tend to emerge from people who have learned to treat depth as an inconvenience and sincerity as a social faux pas. This is understandable; many were raised in emotional climates where earnestness was punished for lingering too long.
I do not begrudge them you for your shorthand. Shorthand exists for those who have not yet had the leisure to spell. Still, it is worth noting that dismissiveness is rarely the mark of surplus confidence; it is more often a protective reflex, deployed when one senses they have been invited to feel something without having packed the proper equipment.
If my words seemed indulgent, or excessive, or in need of being waved away with a borrowed adjective, I can only assume they exceeded the listener’s current tolerance for unguarded thought. Do not worry though, you've not a moral failing! You're merely at a developmental stage.
In time, many people discover that what they once mocked as ‘too much’ was simply asking them to arrive more fully than they were prepared to. Until then, I remain patient. Growth, like comprehension, cannot be rushed without breaking something important.