Nastiness Diagnosis. Anthropology. Religion. Gender. Justice. A Personal Notepad For the General Public.
I always wanted to be you. But I can’t.
Maybe you were not seriously accusing me of those things. you just reduced them into some hurtful words.
I don’t know if this may work. Is it another sin to want to be understood by you?
It is really not I am afraid of being lonely. Actually, I had never been afraid of solitude until the outbreak of my second serious episode of depression.
Would you want to listen to my stories?
The first summer. The fear and loneliness of an anthropologist-to-be from non-US backgrounds among US competitors was the primary reason. There was something I believed only him and I, who were in such awkward and isolated position would understand. I was mostly attracted to that more than anything else.
But you really cured me and gave me great lifetime during my second year in US. Remember we spent the winter in the house, we set up fire and one of the cats died? That was really the best time in my life. Even though you were still distant sometimes. Because I admired you and worshiped you so much, and I could never be as good as you, sometimes I had to disagree with you, to hate you, so I could give myself a sense of worthiness, as if I was still somewhat right and could have a complementary force in your life.
The second summer. I really had a strong sense of guilt from last summer and just a small spark gave me grating alert. I was depressed as usual and especially hostile to any white humans. But someone tried so hard and so awkward just explicitly wanna make me happy and bluntly stop my self-loathing. And it really worked for a moment. Even though I didn’t have strong faith in that.
I didn’t do anything wrong until the last day, as I told you, and I was wishfully thinking that was nothing but a secret, something that did not exist in anyone’s memory. It was out of some very suppressed emotions and terrible communication that eventually made final sexual expression come into existence. How stupid was I ? How selfish was I that I thought I could just deceive you, pretending things did not happen?
Last summer. Now I don’t wanna find any justification. Maybe all the accounts are always doomed to be misleading.
I found a soul more like me than you. He does not have the power to guide me as you always do, but at the time I thought maybe it would be good for me to protect and guide others, instead of being so dependent on your brilliance and insight, sucking the essence out of your lonely and persistent effort over time, and never gave you what you need?
At the beginning of last summer our communication has dropped down to nadir. Because of what I have done, and what you have sacrificed. I could no longer talk to you as a confident self. The past was not understood, the present compromised. I couldn’t find any remedy to the outcome.
If it were others, they probably have broken up for thousands of times.
That may be true. But I had kept some secrets and lived a even more isolated life until almost 2 years ago. I don’t mean that I was a saint by keeping dirty secrets. Instead, because you didn’t know, you were not the one who wanted to have an end. I wanted an end, but I saw you beg, and I chose to stay and I didn’t dare to tell you. But I was having a more and more isolated psyche. I didn’t know what to do. If I could make up my mind in the first fall to break up, would you feel less hurt? would you feel slightly better of me?
I know there was no way back. I won’t ask you back as I used to do. I think you deserve someone unlike. This doesn’t mean I can excuse what I have done. I didn’t do those things to give you a better outlet. I was just buried by my chaotic self. But I still need some of your recognition. I know I didn’t do it well. Actually I did things terribly. But i hope you can remember some good times. Remember I loved you. I still do.