The Inner Dialogue
Thanks to trying to write Cadmus whilst making a comment about love...
In discussing Christian love and charity, and how far the current Dominionist ideal has strayed from its claim to be Christian, I made the comment on Facebook: "If you love someone, whether it be personal or Christian love, you'll trust them enough to leave their decisions to walk off their own cliffs, if they so choose. You'll love them enough to not invade their personal space. You'll love them enough to show your love unconditionally, so they will be more apt to love you in return."
This is what went on in my head immediately thereafter.
Cadmus: What do you know of love? You who poured every abomination and derision into my person.
Me: I can love. I don't often, but can. So few these days really deserve love, though, even my poor expression of it.
Cadmus: And poor it is. You've truly have no conception of it, or anything for that matter.
Me: I loved enough to let you live.
Cadmus: You feared enough to give me life.
Me: Your mother loved you unconditionally. I do too.
Cadmus: My mother did not even know of my existence until centuries of my suffering in this realm, thanks to you, who are my true mother, truth be told. You should never have given birth to me. That you did, is testament to your perversion, your inclination to hate. And what of my fathers, my fathers three? One finds me a curiosity and something to be regarded at arms length at best; one knew the Abomination I was and shall always be; and one tortured me beyond the comprehension of any truly sentient creature. Your claim to love is an affront to all that defines me. The more you seek out love, the more I hate you for it.
Me: Love exists regardless. The real spark of who you are was founded on it. I realise that now.
Cadmus: You are a liar, and you are delusional. Which is worse? The liar knows the truth, whereas the deluded is doomed to walk a path of incomprehension. To be both is to be lost to a special kind of hopelessness.
Me: And I blame myself for instilling a level of hopelessness into your personality. The fact still remains that I love you, despite the harm you have caused me, despite the harm I have caused myself because of you.
Cadmus: I hope you suffer until hell swallows you for ever giving birth to me. When the Pit does welcome you in its bosom, know this: I shall be beside you, placing the shackles of your sin 'round your throat. Whose pet shall be whose then?
Me: You were never my pet. You have always, and shall always be my son.
Cadmus: You sound like that pathetic Elf, Kelat. Her weakness was her insistence to forgive and understand, despite all indications that she should instead flee.
Me: It was her inclination, because she loved.
Cadmus: My mother, she who loves despite the damage it causes her.
Me: Do you speak of Kelat or of me?
Cadmus: Both of you. May you choke on the seeds of your love. May its expression burst your hearts from its imperfection.
Me: Despite your hatred of me, my love remains a fact.
Cadmus: ...
This is what it is like in my head almost every day. That voice just won't shut up, so I'm forced to write it out, even when I'm blocked like a mofo. There are some days I feel like Smeagol/Gollum.
In discussing Christian love and charity, and how far the current Dominionist ideal has strayed from its claim to be Christian, I made the comment on Facebook: "If you love someone, whether it be personal or Christian love, you'll trust them enough to leave their decisions to walk off their own cliffs, if they so choose. You'll love them enough to not invade their personal space. You'll love them enough to show your love unconditionally, so they will be more apt to love you in return."
This is what went on in my head immediately thereafter.
Cadmus: What do you know of love? You who poured every abomination and derision into my person.
Me: I can love. I don't often, but can. So few these days really deserve love, though, even my poor expression of it.
Cadmus: And poor it is. You've truly have no conception of it, or anything for that matter.
Me: I loved enough to let you live.
Cadmus: You feared enough to give me life.
Me: Your mother loved you unconditionally. I do too.
Cadmus: My mother did not even know of my existence until centuries of my suffering in this realm, thanks to you, who are my true mother, truth be told. You should never have given birth to me. That you did, is testament to your perversion, your inclination to hate. And what of my fathers, my fathers three? One finds me a curiosity and something to be regarded at arms length at best; one knew the Abomination I was and shall always be; and one tortured me beyond the comprehension of any truly sentient creature. Your claim to love is an affront to all that defines me. The more you seek out love, the more I hate you for it.
Me: Love exists regardless. The real spark of who you are was founded on it. I realise that now.
Cadmus: You are a liar, and you are delusional. Which is worse? The liar knows the truth, whereas the deluded is doomed to walk a path of incomprehension. To be both is to be lost to a special kind of hopelessness.
Me: And I blame myself for instilling a level of hopelessness into your personality. The fact still remains that I love you, despite the harm you have caused me, despite the harm I have caused myself because of you.
Cadmus: I hope you suffer until hell swallows you for ever giving birth to me. When the Pit does welcome you in its bosom, know this: I shall be beside you, placing the shackles of your sin 'round your throat. Whose pet shall be whose then?
Me: You were never my pet. You have always, and shall always be my son.
Cadmus: You sound like that pathetic Elf, Kelat. Her weakness was her insistence to forgive and understand, despite all indications that she should instead flee.
Me: It was her inclination, because she loved.
Cadmus: My mother, she who loves despite the damage it causes her.
Me: Do you speak of Kelat or of me?
Cadmus: Both of you. May you choke on the seeds of your love. May its expression burst your hearts from its imperfection.
Me: Despite your hatred of me, my love remains a fact.
Cadmus: ...
This is what it is like in my head almost every day. That voice just won't shut up, so I'm forced to write it out, even when I'm blocked like a mofo. There are some days I feel like Smeagol/Gollum.