Hg80The destructive run: Sport as a weapon
Tuesday, July 28 MMXX 22:27h
What if…
Headaches.
Varying in frequency, rate and intensity.
The last few days a simmering one.
Constantly present at an intensity that can not be ignored, but stinging randomly just in case.
I went for a run this morning.
Out of the blue.
My head pounding.
Chaos and anger. Frustration and sorrow.
It had been a while sinds my last run.
The pain in my lungs made it clear that I was smoking to much.
Way to much!
A sharp pain shooting through my foot and up my leg, reminded me of the injury I had inflicted on myself.
And of the fact that ignoring an injury doesn’t accelerate healing.
Nor makes it go away.
Why!?
Why do I hate myself?
How is it that I hate myself so much?
The repulsion I have towards myself.
The hatred…
Although sports are considered healthy, I knew I was going to hurt myself ones again.
But I couldn’t care less.
I felt my body protesting after 300 yards.
And five miles later the protest had only grown.
The question of infinity
A heart rate shooting through the roof, pain in my chest and my body crying for help I wondered once again:
What if ? …
What if I would drop dead right now?
Would the headaches be over then?
Or would the pain linger on in infinity?
Would it matter?
Does it matter?
Do I care?
…
A tidal-wave of questions flooded my brain as I picked up the pace.
Until it went dark.
Love for the world, hatred for the mirror
A Philanthropist without Connection
All those questions reminded me that I do.
I do care!
I care about the world.
About every plant, creature and phenomenon.
And the fact that I’m trying so hard, fighting so hard to find a way is more than proof enough.
Yet despite the fact that I’m a philanthropist, I feel no connection what so ever.
No connection with them nor with myself because of trauma inflicted upon me.
And those injustices surround me still.
I am confronted with them daily and I still can’t do anything about it.
How than, am I supposed to cope with this unjust world?
With a world that has made injustice a norm.
Impotence against the norm of injustice
The Hidden Tears of Humanity
And forces that norm upon the world.
I could tell you about the Waorani of the Amazon and the lawsuit they luckily won.
A lawsuit forced upon them where it had no right to be in the first place.
I could tell you about the tears that run down my face.
Tears of sorrow and frustration.
But then I remembered that all of this would not matter.
That it does not matter!, if I were to drop dead.
And that it would make no difference at all.
The hidden half and the tears of truth
Hence I show you only half.
Half a part of me.
The other parts stay hidden as the whole you can not see.
Cause sadly I can’t trust what is called “humanity”.
But really, It Does Not Matter!
And I don’t care.
Not anymore.
Or do my hidden tears speak differently?
ᗪ𝒾∂เรᗪ𝔫ค©️MMXX
Epilogue: The Law of Shared Impotence
“When the soul carries the weight of the world while the hardware attempts its own destruction, the paradox of the philanthropist is born. The law of shared impotence dictates that those who fight for the autonomy of a distant ‘other’ often forget to unlock their own cage. Tears shed for the Amazon are the only witnesses to a love the ‘I’ does not yet dare to claim for itself. The hidden half is not a sign of weakness, but a necessary boundary against a world that has elevated injustice to a standard. didisdna.”
