You talkin' to me? You talkin' to me? You talkin' to me? Then who the hell else are you talking... you talking to me? Well I'm the only one here. Who the f*ck do you think you're talking to? Oh yeah? OK. - Travis Bickle, "Taxi Driver"I was going to write another post about my hatred of politics, but it was too heavy-handed. If the wrong person had read my blog, I could have got into serious trouble. I freaked out because, as usual, my family was screaming about politics at dinner, and that's something that causes me a blind panic. I put on my war songs in the headphones but I could still hear them when the song changed. I was so depressed I wanted to cry and could not. I hated resorting to Xanax because I have to work, but it seems I'm not too sleepy, in fact I'm barely restraining myself from walking on the ceiling. It could also be because since last night there's a fair in the village, and there are about 3 billion cars around, and I won't really calm down until I count the cats tonight. Yeah, Xanax. But I always wonder if the true "me" is the one with Xanax or without. I know what I hope but also what I fear. Of course, one day, I might be "me", with no panic attacks, even without Xanax. That's the whole point of this blog and of my therapy. I also had a beer at lunch. I try to drink only in the evening because I'm really putting weight on, but sometimes it's the only thing that gets me through the meals. I don't understand if I run away as soon as I've eaten fruit (bad manners) because I'm scared they'll start talking about politics, or if they start talking about politics only when I leave. But uh, if this were the case, they would not scream so loud I can hear them from two rooms away. I wonder how a person can be so full of hate that all the beliefs of others are rubbish to him: he is the sole holder of the truth. Then again everybody's hatred can be understood, if not justified, because it comes from some fear; I know this from my own hatred. And usually these persons are perfectly loveable individuals when they don't talk about politics. This does not change the fact that if such persons catch me with my defences down I go into a panic and God only knows what I can do then. It's not the laughable "thin skin" so despised by "strong" people. It's P-A-N-I-C. And I'm sure I'm not the only one. If we don't charge down a stairways hitting people right and left because there might be old or weak people who might get hurt, why the hell shouldn't we behave with the same care with words and actions? Isn't the brain an organ like all the others? Right now I can't escape this frame of mind. Politics = violence = my panic. We're surprised when countries go to war, and yet we can't do without a little everyday violence in our lives. If there's a feeling that news cause me, probably the reason for my total lack of interest, is my equally total lack of surprise. Have all the little Pharisees who wag their fingers ever wondered about "he who is without sin can throw the first stone"? Who of us can say "I've never hurt anyone with a rude word, a stupid comment, a disparaging remark"? I can't. I refuse this system. Of course, I can't go around brainwashing friends and relatives. It's a moral change that I hope will occur, if over such a long span of time that I won't see it, because right now we can't survive this way. If you don't want Iran to nuke you, start by being nice to the friend or relative who holds a belief different from yours. Yes, I am adamantly convinced that there's a relation. But I am also strongly tempted to say no to the system by not voting next week. For a very simple reason: I DON'T UNDERSTAND, I DON'T CARE AND I DON'T LIKE YOU. NONE OF YOU. And I also want revenge for making my family quarrel every f*cking day. The days go on and on... they don't end. All my life needed was a sense of someplace to go. I don't believe that one should devote his life to morbid self-attention, I believe that one should become a person like other people. |