I've been
trying to knit together a theory of time travel and cruelty,
because, as
always, I like my various disagreements with the world to at least
agree with
each other. Those particular two, however, seem forever at odds;
whether for
some actual negative affinity or simply the strength and insistence with
which I
think about each, I have managed to schematize the problem.
IÕm using
time travel as a loose term for my desire to inhabit another life. Everything
closed off
to me seems complete, even in its imperfection - any other life makes more
sense than
my own, because I only ever know [another life] superficially*. This is of
course a
delusion, and one maintained when I refuse to interact with other people in
earnest; to
get to know someone, for me, is to expose their conflicts and ambiguities,
to dismantle
them, and to grant them an unhappiness with themselves in
which I
always feel so unique. All "other" is perfect for its inability to
absorb my
consciousness,
and so allows me to believe in some kind of perfection, if a stupid one.
This keeps
open the possibility that for other people, life is not an endless series of
polar
opposites,
the inevitably poor negotiation of which leaves me with overwhelming
feelings of
loss and grief. This mode of interaction sacrifices other people, to elevate
them.
But a
refusal to treat others as harshly as myself runs against the arguments I have
made
for
Nietzschean hammer-philosophy, demanding agency and explanation from
everyone I
don't understand. I can only think like this when I am feeling secure in
my own
choices, but I am only ever relatively secure; the fact that I seek out
comparison to
disparage
it, and apply impossibly personal and obscure standards to necessarily
"inferior"
others is
just proof that I'm not so sure.
