What does it take to stop self-destructive phenomena in their tracks? Is it even possible to stop – as opposed to just postponing the inevitable? Often no choice is given. The self-destruction catches up to a man. He is stopped in his tracks involuntarily.
“To live is to tear – to die to be torn?” – Yehuda Amichai
But can’t the reverse be truer still? Living feels like being torn, and dying like doing the tearing?
“I’d move to Canada tomorrow to be with you.” “I thought about you the whole time.”
I keep feeling powerful waves of revulsion, sadness, worry and disgust. Doesn’t one feel self-disgust when she knows someone has repeatedly concealed information, lies, dalliances, circumstances – and even knows the details of those – some of the hurtful words ringing in her ears – but still sticks around? Another form of self-destruction? Why stay for something so tenuous, incomplete and so meaningless? If one can repeat verbatim the same sappy love words to many people, does it mean anything? Isn’t it then a matter of who bites first or who has been hooked, hoodwinked or snake-charmed into the abyss of the bottomless hole of need?