Last night, I became depressed about my response to a red coat and purple-dyed bangs. I felt like the loser of a hundred things. Walking into a room, full of people, lights, and voices of talk, I brought the twilight. To be very accurate, I brought the twilight zone. It is the oddness of the difference, and on this day, I knew I was different. I am accepting of difference, like a lot of people, but, also like a lot of people, I abhor rudeness, mean-ness, and just general, all-around attempts to put people in their place. Everyone is born free, and everyone deserves equal opportunity. So, on a day facing East, I became an outsider of my own making. Just to keep the verbiage to a minimum, the issue that became the making of my depression was a momentary mean-ness I had for a fellow human being. So, the euphemism is that I called her a lesbian–a dyke. Like “niggard,” dyke is a loaded word. To a more daring person, this becomes a challenge to prove the mettle of the word. What is the accuracy; when facing the person, and when calling them something derogatory, in front of their face and in front of the world, is everything accurate and in the place it should be?
So, because I was mean… to be very accurate, because I purposely chose someone of a size who could not defend herself against my use of a derogatory word, I publicly humiliated myself–for not being myself… for not being the leader and the leading example. So, last night, I lost. My voice carries, so, I am sure the world (everyone in the room) heard the resounding crack of the fissure in the floor we were standing on. The fissure has now become a wide chasm of limitless depth, much like an abyss. We are standing on either side, not knowing what to do now. We stare warily at each other, and, at the others who have gathered around, either to spectate or to become a player, a supporter.
I have hopes for a good ending. Even if these are people we will have fleeting connection to, or some real tenuous relationship with. It is good to have a phone book filled with acquaintances rather than a Facebook of hundreds. I am imagining what this “good ending” will be. Will it be about making amends, where things are patched? But, which is obvious, the patch is just unsightly… ugly… glaring. The poor emotional responses live on this case, where the hurt feelings continue in life unabated. Or, is a “good ending” more? … Something closer to “making amends” rather than just “patching” and “repairing?” Can I offer an olive branch, as a sign of hope for a wellness? That we, me and the person I so offended, can feel free to live on.
So, these are the two endings that are possible, given the fact that as a human being, I cannot, no matter how much I may think, that I can find ways of proving the points that the differences between human beings makes us, or, myself, better than other types of human beings. I can probably cite multiple examples of those people who earn more money, or, are more creative, or, have easier times finding things, or, those, who, like the ads say, are just plain luckier–all the time.
These are just types of people. And, I have had friends from even more different places than these four, roughly-drawn examples of places people come from. I usually am very good with people, as socially, I’ve been gifted with word-power. So, usually, I get along. So, just “losing it” last night, I have confused myself. I have worried about it all day, and now, I am rushing to type out this, my apology, as I do not like the feeling of guilt. It is as if I have the devil’s blood coursing through my veins, and, unlike human blood, it burns. It burns its way through my body, and my thought is of the wrong and the guilt.
So, I am publicly telling, and saying, to the person I wronged, “I am sorry. Please accept my apology, as it is sincere and comes from a place of knowledge and experience.” I may be very educated and capable of many things, but, still, I have those moments, those momentary mean thoughts swirling in a mess.
everylittlethingplease 