ComicalGnomes wrote:
the twat who punches you in the face for no reason might have all kinds of history that to some would explain or even perhaps justify his actions. Some would pity this violent person, and seek to be nice to, and empathise with them.
The thing is, you'll rarely hear f anyone being punched in the face for 'no reason'. You might be punched in the face after a verbal exchange, because the other person is drunk, mistakenly recognises you for someone else, or because you 'looked at them the wrong way' To different people these are all justifications. To do so for 'no reason' can only be as a result of mental illness, surely?
I'd say even the 'what you looking at me for' attitude and lead up to a fight that you see around this part of London is bordering on a cultural mental illness - not a physical one, but one bred by a modern generation that feel victimised and scrutinised.
We know that any of these 'reasons' to fight are totally unacceptable, but then we are (mostly quite sensible people.)
My mother's partner put me through years of physical hell and abuse that I cannot even bare to think about or describe. he was an abusive drunk, a misogynist and bully. I do not wish harm on him - I wish to never see or hear of him again, but more than that I wish that he orts himself out. partly because he is a mess of a human people, and partly because if he
does sort himself out then he will not inflict the horrors he did to me onto anyone else.
When I was a few days shy of 15, and decided I had to leave home because of it, I hated him. Actually, I may have wanted, or even wished him dead, but when my boyfriend picked me up from school a couple of weeks later, we drove past him. He was a mess, staggering in the street, off his face, filth down his front, still in his work (chef's) uniform. I don't know if he was dressed from that day or two or three days before, and I pitied him. What a mess of a human being and a waste of a life. My boyfriend wanted more to stop the car and pound him in the face but I wouldn't let him, so we drove past and that was the last I saw of him.
I think it was around the time of leaving then that i stopped ever getting angry. i don't think I ever really got angry before then, from what my friends say of me. If I was upset I'd just go very quiet, but never shouted in anger nor said nasty things to people, but I think maybe I had to grow up then, having just left home without anyone even seemingly noticing, my Gran was in a recovery home after a terrible stroke and I had no family to stay with, just my boyfriend though who was still older was, really, just a kid himself. I thin the effort and energy of being angry or blaming anyone else would have been counter-productive, wen you are so tired and it feels like you are battling the world at fifteen years old.
Someone at Uni once said I was the most chilled out person they had met. This is totally the opposite of reality. I am like a popcorn kernal in a hot pan when I am happy or excited, Craig may have said once or twice that I have too much energy, but don't have the time nor will to deal with things in an angry way. I don't like things that make me cry, when someone hurts yo so much that they bring you to tears, but I'd rather cry and feel sad than feel angry. Being angry seems to make people feel ill, I'd rather cuddle up to something (
) or someone (
... oh, er,
no, not him
) to make myself feel better than to get myself all worked up about it.