An odd experience

I went to a public forum of sorts yesterday, and watched four speakers who were not idiots.  This is not something I am used to.  There is at least a 20-30 IQ point difference between me and most of the people with whom I interact, and generally more like 40-50.  That does not mean that I am not frequently the less emotionally intelligent of the two of us, but it does mean that where abstract analysis is concerned, I am usually able to see things most people cannot.  So, in any event, is how it seems to me (granting as an abstract principle that we are all stupid at unknown intervals, for unknown periods of time, for unknown reasons, and that none of us are stupid on purpose.  It just creeps up on us.  I am human, ergo prone to this.  I also have a substantial amount of personal data to back this up.  As I have likely shared, I imagine stupidity flying around like Cupid, and shooting us with arrows of idiocy, and the thing about idiocy is that it is never obvious when we are infected.  So be careful, be very, very careful.)

Be that as it may, I’m walking back to my car, in a crosswalk, and some stupid motherfucker in a truck stops so close to me that one of the homeless guys in a blanket thought he had hit me.  I came very, very close to being hit hard by a truck going at least 20-30 miles an hour, because the fucking imbecile was in the habit of driving fast everywhere.  Why?  Because, you know, that’s how he always drives.

But I didn’t get hit.  Not a scratch.  So me being me, I’m wondering what God might have intended this to mean for me.  “Don’t waste a moment”, maybe?  The End is Always Near?  Be grateful for your blessings?  These are truisms.  This is the sort of shit you are supposed to say.

As it happened, I had about a ten block walk, due to some stuff going on downtown, and I pondered it in a light rain.

Here is the thing with me: my belly is filled with naked terror.  If I were thrown suddenly into the next life, what I would carry with me is this terror, and rage that I have had to carry this all this time, with no fucking comfort, no fucking support, and nothing really good happening to me, no good times to recall.

It’s not that I have had no good times.  I have had some wonderful times with my kids in particular, but because being with them allowed me for short periods of time to put all my shit aside.  But in memory, that terror floods back in and ruins everything.  I don’t get relaxed, pleasant moments where it’s all good, and I felt perfectly relaxed, and it was the perfect day.  I get relative moments where things are working, and I’m screaming at myself just a little less.  I have memories where I can honestly say I did my job of protecting them from all the stuff I carry, and gave them genuinely positive memories.  I firewalled my pain, and created something good for them, at an unknown cost to me.

And I thought of the Book of Mormon and the song “Fuck you, God”.  I felt genuine rage, genuine anger.  I understand people who want to curse this life, curse any Creator responsible for it. I understand people who want to hurt other people, who want to bring blackness with them wherever they go.  I understand the opposite of love.  Some people are gifted with an easy knowledge of love, but I am not one of them.

I of course get moments in the other direction.  This was a blackness which descended on me which I will not feed.

But if there was a point in that occurrence, it was to awaken me to these latent feelings.  This is the root core sensation underlying my self destructive tendencies. I feel rage, and when I am the only one in the room, the only one I can hurt with impunity, then I do.

Edit: this here is the truth.