My Persian Flaw … January 15, 2014

No one likes to communicate about their flaws. I haven’t at this point decided whether or not to publish this. I freely admit this is my flaw and my problem. I am aware that it is a big one, and perhaps one many people share.

I remember. Startling, yes? Then again, that is only the source of the problem, not the problem itself as it is of what those memories are comprised.

I remember every single derogatory thing ever said or done to me with perfect clarity. The good? Rarely remembered.

The problem is a bit worse, though, as the things, if they remained individual, would not be so calamitous. They accumulate, they accrue, they boil, and putrefy. Unless the person tends daily to grace my presence thereby somewhat abating the pressure, in their absence it becomes an obstacle, an obstacle to any shared future.

I have tried various means to alleviate this phenomenon to no avail. The memories, the accursed memories stand starkly, unavoidably, in my gaze. Sometimes it seems the memories are finally beaten only to return during a restless night, magnified and in even more detail.

These memories of slights, insults, and attacks grow yearly. In many eyes they might seem insignificant, petty. Once upon a time, that is how they were to me. Then someone chose to become a distant acquaintance. Efforts to remember the good times together led to the recalling of slights, insults, and personal attacks. More time passes without an outlet, the pressure builds, the most slight of passing remarks becomes the product of a flaming tongue. An insult that would be given no attention becomes a knife that penetrates deeply. An infinitesimal attack on my character becomes a major rift, and then the damage is done, hatred, pure and unceasing ensues. Each slight, insult, and attack becomes equal and equally judged a reasonable reason to end the friendship. That’s where it stands today.

I am not making an invitation for solutions. None will be welcome. The only way this will end well is if the person who treated me so callously were to return and make amends. Any friendship, though, would have to restart from scratch.

(my reference to Persian flaw indicates in no way that I think this is my only flaw in an otherwise persona of perfection)

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