A selective empathetic is a more sinister evil than the outright unempathetic. The unempathetic is quite small in numbers, and are under more scrutiny. The selective empathetic is one of reflective desire, picking and choosing those to be glad for and wishing to prosper based off of desired personal gain, gain that involves putting others down in the process. This level of empathy is pure submission to outside preachers, outside systems, media, literature, art, and economics, and represents a dark and fallible inner sense. Letting things simply happen, apathetic to their greater truth, nihilistic in meaning, and a walking product of guiding forces around them. A pure empathetic is empathetic to all in all situations, noticing the humanity in all. It is sad to notice the selective empathetic being a prevalent and lauded endeavor, when the qualities of such selective empathetic are thought of also as manipulation. A great contradiction in social morality and personal character judgeme
When those of us whom lose everything, when we lose who we are internally and we lose our love of the world, we aren't able to return to normal. We aren't able to be who we were anymore. We know what it's like to be at the bottom of our rung, we know what it's like to lose our humanity. I have found this knowledge to be useful, the experience of detriment cannot be replicated through language. Discovering your death doesn't mean you must die, it only means you must not live.
Discovering your death will leave you dumbfounded with society. It will haunt the very core of your being. It will make you afraid of change and of hope. After being dead, you realize something: hope is a catalyst to loss. Loss bleeds through your skull day in and day out. Your hope will be lost, and it will die in the same vein that you lose yourself. Hope is the one thing that drives you to a distance, but that distance isn't stable, and acknowledging this can be the most disgusting thing for you to do. Realizing your hope is worthless is heresy in our world of happiness and tranquility. It is beautifully disgusting to society, and it is something that we of the living dead should take pride in: we have successfully challenged the fundamentals of being alive.
I find it hard to believe that there wasn't a time that those critics who are judgmental of the living dead, didn't feel cold. That they didn't lose their humanity, or their hope. If they had experienced these things, then it is safe to say that they didn't learn from these events, or they are ignorant of their own feelings. I find this to be the saddest of all views: that the self can be ignorant of the self. The amount of excuses being presented are all the same. It wraps around a critic's head, the critic will circle around their excuses for their own "betterment". But the betterment of the self is not found in ignoring your neuroticism; your blood will always tell the same story, and this story will always be that you were too weak to exemplify your disdain.
There will be the time when this is clearer than what it is now, that our commodities have influenced our personhood. We are these clothes, we are this food, we are this jewelry, we are this money! We are happy! We do not fret over the complete absurdity that is the universe, because in the minds of critics, there is no loose way of being. There is only hard and bold markers of purity. You cannot live with your mind in space, you must be present. If this is something you find to be problematic, may I direct yourself to a therapist or a psychiatrist? You certainly shouldn't feel out of place, that is irrational!
Oh how the critics see the world is very certain. They know that this view is totally bullshit too, they know that they are fooling themselves. So, why do they ignore it then?
Because acknowledging our lack of intrinsic worth is too much to handle. Because happiness and glee feel better than being a living zombie. After all, these feelings are only what we make of them...
right???
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