Much of my life can be summed up as “Irrational Anger towards Inanimate Objects.” These inanimate objects can include abstract entities.
It’s annoyance, though, not hatred.
Hatred is foreign to me. It is a word whispered in the shadows, worn as a proud badge by some, hissed in tones of venom by others. I don’t hate anything as of yet. I don’t think I’m capable of it. No one’s destroyed my life or hurt my family, friends or community deeply. I can’t say that I can truly hate what I don’t know. For atrocities and large-scale disasters, I can only imagine the emotions of those affected. I’m sure I can’t compare.
I can’t hate. Does that make me a ray of beaming sunshine? No. I can still dislike things. Deep, pervasive dislike padded with juicy slabs of resentment and annoyance is how I go about constructing my feelings of hatred and rage. Layer by layer, they simmer and fester and build until I can’t tell the difference between that and the real thing. And I am annoyed at soooo many things. Apoplectic, furious, enraged even.
For example, are unnecessarily capitalized initialisms and acronyms. I swear to Oxford, next person who writes “Liquid Natural Gas” or “Applied Behavior Analysis” will be subjected to my WRATH. My WRATH, I tell you! Also when the inscrutable processes of the universe lead to unfortunate circumstances, like many vicious cycles. It really grinds my gears to see the universe kick a bison when they’re down. Speciesism is another pet peeve, especially since I am superhypocritical, and I probably possess a latent anthropocentric bias. Human rights? I prefer sapient rights. What have I done to deserve the right to live, anyway? The point here is you don’t have to do anything to deserve it, as long as you’re human. Well, fuck that shit. And is the case with many people, I am annoyed by “stupid people”. “Intelligent people” annoy me equally – when they assume superiority, refuse to admit mistakes, and act holier-than-thou, they are simultaneously more and less credible than the less intellectually gifted who do the same. More, because they have those intellectual gifts, and less because with those gifts they should really fucking know better than to be an ass. (The scare quotes are necessary – generalization of a poorly-defined group of people is a no-no. I’m referring to a certain genre of people generally disdained or praised for their intelligence or lack thereof.) Irrationality is an ingrained part of our reasoning process, and being rigidly logical in every decision is not only time-consuming, it’s impractical. But it leads to group polarization, illusory superiority, confirmation bias, and countless, innumerable, endless other frankly stupid cognitive biases and fucking ridiculous fallacious reasoning.
Why does the world have to be unfair? Why can’t we all have the reassurance of an eternal afterlife of joy and forgiveness? Why can’t we all join arms and sing kumbayya and, you know, not be jerks to each other? Why can’t we all be unselfish and reasonable and assume good faith? (There is a certain irony in disapproving of selfishness, though. Why would another’s personal failure in this respect affect you, unless it takes something from you? If it takes something from you, is that not part of the reason you resent it? If that is part of the reason you resent it, then your motivations for disapproval is at least in part concerned with yourself and your interests, making it…selfish.)
I only vaguely know the reasons, but I resent it anyway.
I am a whiny little bitch, I know. Whenever I do the world any kindness it’s to satisfy my insatiable need for attention. It doesn’t help that my self-worth is completely dependent on external validation. Because, really, I know that if I can’t contribute something someone else wants, I have no worth in this world. I deserve worse than this. But the world can’t be bothered to punish me personally, so I’ll simply bring it upon myself, I think.
See, there it is again. Hypocritical me. I whine about whining while whining. I can see why no one likes it.
I can see my flaws. Projection makes me irrationally angry at everyone who reminds me of them. All these things are just my selective perfectionism, frustrated idealism, and lack of self-confidence screeching, and it annoys me too. I need completion. I need closure. But the nature of the world, with all its suffering, in all the injustices that never get resolved, in everything that should happen but doesn’t and shouldn’t happen but does (you can think of your own specific events), is the ultimate unresolved issue.
It makes me so angry I can’t think straight.
And I kind of enjoy it.
It makes me want to actually tear my hair from its roots. My blood does feel like it’s boiling. It burns, and it burns, and I lap it up. The word “kill” crosses my mind more than once per minute. Kill. I like how it rolls off the tongue. Burn, destroy, kill, delete. But I restrain myself. I see my own biases, warts and all, laid out before me. I do not have the right to demand of strangers to be a better person than I am or to dictate what they do, unless they harm others. Who am I to say anything? Am I intelligent? Compared to the average or the barest definition of “sentient”? As I’ve said before, I haven’t done anything particularly worthy of respect; nothing that distinguishes me from my fellows.
One day though, I hope that I can make this world less intolerable. I want to help others, desperately, when I still can. What is the point of my existence otherwise?