I talked to my mom this morning about my dad and his “depression” and his selfishness. The night before we spoke of such and led me to ponder over something, but I never got to bring it up. As noted in my previous entry, I thought of the time back after my suicide attempt. Interestingly that also brought in thoughts of my attempt to tell my mom my reasons back then. Well, it came up all over again.
I wanted to know where my selfishness laid back then. I explained to her the facets of my thoughts of others and then my view of my own life back then. I recollected my views on death and how people reacted to it. I remembered how I saw my life at the time and how I saw my future.
In simple terms I didn’t want to burden my parents, I didn’t think I’d get better, they dealt with my screwed up older siblings already and I figured one less “problem” would benefit them.
As for death, I didn’t fear it. I didn’t fear the unknown. What happens will happen. When I looked at my life, I was like a wound up music box. When I saw my future, I saw little difference. Logically the equation was that my life equaled the same as if I were dead.
I looked at my parents and thought of how death and mourning worked. People mourn deeply the first months, maybe years at worst. Life continues on and thus they continue to live and “move o”. I felt certain the same would occur for my parents.
I wanted to know where my selfishness was in that, since I lacked the ability to rationally pin point it. Hearing the entire aspect of it, my mom responded it was selfish, but unknowingly. Opposite to my father, I took the scenario like a scientist, with logic. My father mainly is emotional. Because of this, I lacked the true insight of how death affects other. I had heard that a parent’s worst nightmare is living beyond their children. I never knew the extent of the impact for parents’ who mourned was so intense. Thus, it was never computed and without the complete data the equation was flawed.
Thus, the factor in hand was also my lacking experience. I was around fifteen that year and unlike some unfortunate people, I never truly dealt with a situation to give me insight to how death can truly affect others, especially the parent and child aspect.
Therefore, in the end, I sincerely thought I wasn’t being selfish but it was due to inexperience and my lacking in true emotional insight.
Thus I asked my mom if I was still a good person in the long run. It seems I was and I found that relieved me. Noticing that, a new thought was inspired. I realized I did have a goal in life. I noted such to my mom.
I explained how I always viewed goals and aspirations. In the end it was the same way I had viewed what the feeling of happiness was. I saw it in its simple, exaggerated form. With happiness I thought one had to be energetic, excited, laughing and such. In turn, with goals, dreams and aspirations I thought it was something that was similar to a burning passion, energy and the like.
It was today I realized my view was limited on what a certain emotion was yet again. I did have a goal in life. I had this goal perhaps almost all my life. My goal is to be a good person.
I realized that is what it was. In the past I mistook my self-interest as self-centered and would fret over being selfish and self-involved. In the end it was my way of gathering data to make sure I could understand an emotion, the situation and how to avoid doing anything that would be bad unintentionally due to lack of understanding.
I always have done such. I’d ask my friend, Kyle, about negative situations that occurred to grasp what I did wrong. When my mother and I became close, I’d ask her the same sort of things. All this time… all of those things I did… were actually driven by my wish to be a good person and not because I couldn’t stop thinking about myself in a selfish sort of way. I was amazed.
In the end, it was concluded overall all my actions are of good intentions, but I will likely always require a second view, my mom, to enlighten me on the emotional aspects. Simply put, I was relieved.
I noted to her that I felt like an AI. It was like those science fiction stories where an artificial intelligent machine somehow develops true feelings or tries to understand them to live as a human. I was the machine and my mom helps me understand humans more and I input the data from my learning experiences to be able to function accordingly and be a good person.
I smirked and said it seemed I evolved from a wind up clock to an AI. Perhaps one day I’d become a real human.