I recently became aware that I wish death upon a person. When the thought would come to my mind, my good self shamed me, what a terrible thing to think. It would be one thing if it were Donald Trump I were wishing gone, as I am sure no small number of people desire. No, and I am no Trump fan, but he has stolen nothing from me. Is that it? Is that why I want this person to die? And just what is it that he or she stole from me? A lot, I can tell you that. But it is a wrong thing to be thinking and yet I catch myself daydreaming about it like I did in my teenage bedroom trying to will myself to time travel after seeing Somewhere In Time. I don`t imagine killing however, no I have no taste for that and prison, I am certain, would not suit me well. (Do they have martinis in prison? This just came to mind.) No, I imagine the person dead in the coffin at the funeral home, all gussied up with tearful family members viewing the final view. And it makes me smile, and then I am ashamed again for having thought it and smiled at it.
Sometimes I say it out loud. Die _________. And then I realize that this is the trait of a crazy person. Is that what drove people to be crazy, the theft of something deep and unforgivable within them? I wonder. So there is a dark side to me after all. I wish death upon someone. I know if I am patient enough, it will come to pass.
I had a friend in high school. She was extremely talented and when I was in her presence, it was like I was validated, this god talks to me. My father was going through a photography phase at the time and I have some eight by ten glossies of her and I. Sometimes she talked about death. What did I think happened after we die. I was an adolescent without a firm belief yet. She would daydream about it and even talk about killing herself. Once she faked a rape attack to get out of her shift at Del Taco. We went to
instead and danced and did poppers. I would have gone anywhere with her. She
had a toga party and to impress her, I painted myself gold with spray paint.
The kind that you use to paint a car. Later I learned I could have died. Hours
later, after having won for best costume, I was being scrubbed with gasoline to
get the paint off (highly unpleasant) and I thought that it had still been
worth it, to paint myself with spray paint. One day she told me she was going
to do it, to kill herself, I can`t remember how, but I think pills were
involved. She had talked about it so many times, it didn`t alarm me at all, she
was just fascinated with it, that`s all. Well, she did it. She didn`t die but
she had attempted. Several days later when it became known that she had told me
beforehand, the grown-ups were very cross and made me feel bad. How could I
have said nothing? Her parents banned her from speaking to me again.
A few years ago, she finally succeeded in doing it by jumping in front of a commuter train. In comments on the newspaper article, people scolded her (a dead person) for her selfishness (I was 3 hours late for work!) but they hadn`t known her like I had. I guess I can understand the scolding since she stole from those commuters. Stole hours of their lives while authorities cleaned up her guts from the tracks.
I think about the fact that I daydream about wanting someone dead and it reminds me of her, who always wished to know death herself. In my case, it is just selfishness, as it is impossible to recover the stolen goods, so I want revenge. I don`t want to do it mind you, that smacks of effort, but I will be happy when it comes to pass.