|Blogs > equivocalbeing > To J----|
I don’t understand how something like that can be fulfilling for you. Do you honestly think those people really care for you? If you were to get sick, how many of them would visit you in the hospital? If you were to die, how many of them would come to your funeral? You’re satisfying your immediate pleasures but in the process of doing so, you’re distancing yourself from humanity. You’ve deluded yourself into thinking that the sex site is the real humanity ‒ but those people don’t care a fuck about you and are only interested in random, short-term hookups. If you left the sex site ‒ today, tomorrow, sometime in the future ‒ how many of them do you honestly think would continue to seek you out? I’ve been a part of internet communities before, a blog community in high school and World of Warcraft more recently. Do you think I still talk to any of the people I met there? No ‒ because the beauty of such internet communities is the distant indifference and collective selfishness that can be preserved by all of its members. That’s why people turn to online communities instead of cultivating the ones that are found in real life: online it’s ok to be a selfish, indifferent bastard. But you’re blinded by your selfishness to the point that you can’t identify this selfishness in others. I pity you, J----, because I know that such a life will be ultimately unfulfilling. How can you cultivate loving relationships in the real world if you constantly need people like that to be happy? If you keep fucking people like that for the rest of your life or even for a moderate period of time, you’ll never be satisfied with a real companion or a family.
I’m not as sad anymore that you left. I’m just sad that you never saw my inner worth and all I was to you was a string of adjectives “bookish,” “intelligent,” “elitist,” “rich” that are less perceptive and correct than those that any of my moderate acquaintances could have used to describe me. I’m sad that we spent almost two years together and that you can only reconstruct me with these inaccurate and superficial words ‒ I feel like you never tried to get to know me. And maybe I didn’t know you enough either because the words I would have used to describe you “kind,” “honest,” “caring” are completely incongruous with your final treatment of me. I do, however, still know one word that describes you well: “troubled.” And though there may be no hope for us, there is still hope for you ‒ save yourself while there is time.