The reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated.
I'm sure you have all missed my rants.
Now, it is time for a rant against the most flawed egotistical jerk in my world.
The concept I want everyone else to carry out is distinctly absent from my life.
Okay, enough, here we go, this is going to hurt.
Last week, some major things went down involving some people in my life. Two friends of mine wronged another friend, perhaps one of the closest of all my friends, basically a friend since birth. My other two friends did something absolutely terrible to my good friend, not only betraying her trust, but taking something away from her that was not their's to take. I am sure you all want more details, but unfortunately, this rant is about me.
Well, my good friend called me as soon as the whole thing went down, absolutely devastated. I was at work, in my swamp habitat, actually waist deep in water at the time.
The year so far has been very interesting for me. Many of you know, I graduated college in the fall and have spent the last five months working for my dad as a crawfisherman here in the strange swamp of south central Louisiana with only a two week trip to Europe three months ago breaking this constant.
It has been strange, working in a huge, muddy, weed-filled reflection of the sky for the last five months, my own reflection constantly distilled by the images of myself I have compiled in 23 years of memory, completely alone except for mudbugs, snakes, and the constant contemplation of 23 years of life led to an uncertain crossroad.
Everyday there is me, and well...there is me.
As I pulled myself out of the water and plopped into the old pickup truck I throw my writhing bounty into, listening to my friend crying her eyes out as she told me what happened, my heart filled with anger. As I hung up the phone, tears filled my eyes, as well, and I stared off at the water through dirty old windows.
My first thought was, don't punch the window! That is stupid, you are not a dumb caveman, you do not break things!
Then, I saw a few loose crawfish scuttle by in the dirt, and I thought, you will not jump out of this truck and start crushing them. They are living creatures, and you are not a child.
That's right, I thought. I'm not a child. I'm the goddamn best person in the world. I'm God's greatest creation. Of course I'm not going to hit something. Of course, I'm not going to crush some innocent little creatures. That's not me. I'm above things like that. Then, I went back to work, but my heart was heavy.
For the remainder of the day, I talked to my good friend several times, and became increasingly angry with what our other two friends had done to her. One of the friends was her boyfriend, you see, and a brother to me. The other had been one of her best friends for a very long time, and a friend to me for a while, as well. As the day went on, I went from infuriated, to almost incapacitated with hatred. I forgot every value or ethic I believed in. My eyes filled with blood.
Then, I opened my mouth, and my mind, and let the garbage spill out.
But, I forget something. I pretend to serve a God that loves unconditionally. I pretend to understand unconditional love myself.
Regardless of the horrible things my friends did to my good friend, and to a lesser extent, me, I am still supposed to love them, right?
It doesn't make any fucking sense at all, though, does it? I mean, they wronged one of my best friends, they wronged me in the process, and I am supposed to love them? Who came up with this horseshit? I mean, it's not like I've ever done anything wrong. It's not like I've ever hurt anybody. I'm the best goddamn person in the world. I'm God's greatest creation.
One time, I told a woman who had a mentally disabled child whose mind would never progress past the age of two that I bet she wished she had had me instead of her "retarded" son. One time, as the same woman's son was playing, I purposely hit him in the head with a baseball, then hid so he would think his sister did it, and he did, and he kicked her, and he hit her. Sometimes, I fantasize that I am making love to another man's wife, and in my imagination she likes it very, very much. I have told so many lies I can't even remember what many of them were, I only have the "rewards" I got as a result, the trophies. I have purchased things that cost the price it would take to feed a child for a year, and I have left them in the corner, and let them fill with dust as my reflection in them grows dimmer and dimmer. One time, my sister made me angry, and I told her "Burn in hell, bitch!" and I meant it. One time, I almost sent my brother to the hospital because he accidentally ate my breakfast.
I'm the best goddamn person in the world.
I'm a piece of shit.
God, this strange abstract concept of a friend I have, apparently thinks I am as good as anybody else, though, and every time I do something wrong, He has to watch, and He loves me, and for some reason, I don't even have to pay equally for every wrong act I commit, because He came to Earth and died as penance for every single one of them.
If someone asked me to climb up on a board, nail myself to it, and let them cut me for every bad thing they had ever done, I would tell them in the thickest country brogue I could muster to go fuck themselves. Apparently, God and I are very different.
And that is why I am one miserable son of a bitch. Every act that I commit against the tenants of God to make myself happy only makes me more dissatisfied, and, in this case, cutting down these two people who wounded someone so dear to me with their terrible act-cutting them down lower than anything I have ever stepped in only made me feel dissatisfied. So now, not only am I distraught for what they have done, I am distraught for what I have done.
Yet, I cannot judge my good friend for hating, because she was wronged far more than I was, and hating is sometimes a part of grief, and none of us are God but God, and if there is hate in her heart, I have no business to condemn her, because I am not the judge of any person's heart.
One of the only good things I did after this terrible event transpired was to build up and encourage my good friend, because she was faultless in the whole ordeal, and she is an awesome incredible person coping with events she did not deserve to have to face, and she needed and still needs her other friends to be there for her, and we will be there, and we love her. I hope and pray that she will one day be purged of all the grief that has been forced upon her, and can trust again, after her trust has been so brutally devoured. I pray that she will be able to move on and live a happy life.
But, now, I pray for my other two friends, as well. I do not pray that they burn in hell. I do not pray that their genitals fall off, or that they get in a car wreck and die, or that everytime they look in the mirror, they will face the same experience that I do-the experience of staring into a reflection and seeing in it not only myself, but also every good thing I have ever killed.
I pray that God will help me to forgive them. I pray that God will help me to love them, as He loves me. I pray that God will restore them.
I pray that God will restore me.
Because hate is like a cancer. It eats away at the good in us. Without God in my life, that hate would eat away until I became the emotionless destroyer, the terrible judge I see in my nightmares that carries out justice to all who wrong, kills every bad thing, kills every good thing.
Those two friends of mine may no longer fall into the category of "friend" but they are still human beings that deserve grace just as much as I do, and for any student of Christianity, you know that grace is grace because we don't deserve it, but we are given it anyway, and now I am very tired, and pimples have broken out on my forehead from worry and grief, and I am filled with regret that I could not simply build up and not tear down, but it is too late, now, and I have repented, and that is all I can do, and I am very, very tired, and there is grace for us all, and tonight, when I sleep, I hope I dream of things I do not deserve, and not things that I do.