“I’m not a monster!”
Fuck. He’s right. I shouldn’t have called him that. And in this moment, I find myself a little bit at a loss as for why I did that. No, I didn’t say it to his face, I just took a bit of creative license in my writing on this blog and also the other one. I thought I was being so clever and so visceral. But I was the one who was being an asshole.
I don’t think he’s a monster. I never thought that. If anything, I think he’s more human than almost anyone else I’ve ever met. And that’s fucking beautiful.
The point that I was trying to make, and which I probably didn’t make, is that the duality of man encompasses both the good and the evil in our hearts. If anything, I struggle with facing down my own moral impurities, especially because I was given the misconception that we humans are capable of moral perfection and that we should achieve it. (Hello, Catholicism.)
This flaw goes both ways. I have never been able to achieve moral purity, and I don’t even really try. But this is at odds with my inner desire to achieve it. Nor have I ever met someone who is morally pure, but I still expect that from other people. It’s just a giant, impossible, unmanageable circle of loathing. I’m trying to deal with it better.
Using the allegory of monstrosity wasn’t intended to deny him his humanity, even though perhaps it may have read like that. The allegory of monstrosity was meant to illustrate that I have become better at accepting myself because of him and his unrepentant humanity. The allegory of monstrosity was meant to be hyperbole for all our inner flaws. Monstrosity is meant to reflect the horror and anxiety we have with our own flaws and with other people’s flaws. It wasn’t meant to imply that someone is burdensome or undeserving of love or respect or trust because they are flawed.
If anything, being around someone who is so honest and accepting of his own flawed nature has helped me be more honest and accepting of myself. I admire and cherish that opportunity.
Never a monster. Always a lover.