Black.

How can people be so evil? In the past two weeks, I have experienced several events that seem to go so far against a normal creature’s moral code and caused me to question what exactly the world has done to corrupt us? 

I have experienced someone break promises that have thrown another’s entire future down a dark, slippery pit and show no remorse. Many who, on a daily basis, degrade and try to establish their superiority over other’s who are their equals in life. And another who has forced themselves on to another and excused their actions simply because “he’s a guy”. Where does any of it stop? When does the power of good step in to destroy the ink that has sullied the world. True, some spots are darker than others, but regardless of the opacity, the area is will never be seen the same way again. 

It’s a question that has been asked billions of times and will be asked billions of times again: When does it become acceptable to let ourselves be so disgusting towards one another? When did the morals that our mothers drilled into our adolescent minds just fly out the window? Treat others as you wish to be treated—The Golden Rule. When did it cease to exist? For strangers, friends, and family. I don’t care if you don’t know or fully trust someone else, they are by no means below you. Coming from a ‘first-world country’ that frowns upon the caste system enforced in other areas of the world, you would think that we would give a bit more gravity to this idea. We may never live in an ideal world, but why can’t we try a bit more to reach for a fair one?  

Phoenix.

It has finally happened. I can honestly say that I no longer need your approval anymore and I am flying—well, that feeling comes from something else too, but I’m elated nonetheless. It’s funny how much I needed to let go of the superficial connectors to reach this point. Symbolism helps more than I’ve ever expected when I need to move on from one state of mind to another. I had always assumed silly things like leaving your number for the cute waiter at a restaurant to get over your inhibitions were all products of the Hollywood ideal—an illusion to remind the world that nothing is permanent and evolution is inevitable. And yet, here I am, strangely void of any feelings towards the situation. 

I’ve never liked many of those girly sayings that go floating around the internet and end up tattooed on one of four teenage girls strutting up and down the malls and blocking the walkways for us peasants who “couldn’t even wish to be as cool and popular” as them*. Regardless of that fact, though, the idea that I love so much is one such saying I see scrawled all over Tumblr, but I cling to and take comfort in the fact that the original flew from the mouth of Elie Wiesel:

The opposite of love is not hate, it’s indifference. The opposite of beauty is not ugliness, it’s indifference. The opposite of faith is not heresy, it’s indifference. And the opposite of life is not death, but indifference between life and death.

• US News & World Report (27 October 1986)

Now, I have obviously not been through anything anywhere near as soul-crushing as what this man and millions of others have, and I’m in no way trying to say my trials are or ever will be as difficult as their struggle. I’m just a young mind making connections. (Ooh, dem synapse doin’ good work.) I think I understand a bit of what Mr. Wiesel meant though: if you are angry, you still feel. It’s just like any physical wound: you had nerve endings and feeling in the spot before the flesh was torn, directly afterwards that shit stings like a bitch and will remain sore and tender while healing. During the healing process, the destroyed tissue is that much more sensitive because there is less of a buffer between intrusions and those tender sensors of pain, but as soon as the scar tissue bridges the gap between flaps, you barely feel the spot where that pain radiated so powerfully before, if at all. Indifference. It’s strange when you run your finger over it later—feeling so much all around it, but never in that one spot. That void of sensory information that should be eliciting some sort of response from the rest of you. It has for so long, that it’s strange, but interesting. A different experience. 

I am reborn. 

That comparison was almost too vivid in my mind. I need a brain scrub. 

*Can you tell which caste I belonged to while growing up?