"Why are you following him so blindly?" I asked.
"Because I respect him," she explained.
Regardless of what I've done for her — a copy first book, a waltz I composed when I was younger — all she wanted from me was to be unloved by her. Even when I was just trying to be nice, she was suspicious of my "true intentions", which was probably to hit on her or something.
"Are you trying to impress me?" She asked.
"Not really; I don’t know, maybe."
"Then cut the bull."
It was all this time that I was never truly worthy of her. Not worthy of her love. Not even of her respect. "I did nothing wrong, right?" I asked. "You didn't do anything," she replied. If I did nothing, why did I deserve such trashy treatment, such underestimation of my worth, to the point that I am not relevant enough to be replaceable?
For the most part, I was oblivious to the fact that she treated me badly. I was too naïve; and foolish to realize that, as someone told me, she was a s****y person all the way. Even when she welcomed me back into her world, I was too naive to believe that she would also accept my love this time; a one-sided platonic love born of her shallow beauty.
But no. She learned nothing all those years. She failed to realize that it’s okay to love without getting into a damn relationship. Perhaps I did not explain myself too well; perhaps I was naïve this time as well. I had enough being naive, since then.
Whatever the scenario or stage in this "saga," it was ultimately me who was punished. Punished for displaying emotion; punished for being unable to understand regular human communication due to my disabilities; punished for being honest and not decieving. Yes, she wanted to be decieved because she preferred delusion over the truth of being loved by me. She preferred me to conceal my true intentions. A friendly behavior under an ulterior motive.
In the end, it was me who was the problem, right? So, why did she tell me I did nothing wrong? If so, why was I rejected once again? What was wrong with me this time? I was the dysfunction all along, wasn’t I?
The crack in the machine, the extra weight, the stranger on a distant hill. It can’t be that I was rejected again and again from her company if I didn’t do anything wrong.
But again, perhaps I wasn't worthy enough, because I didn't do anything significant yet, in her eyes. I detested having a powerbase and having followers. To better survive, I fixed that.
Why do I even consider her to be someone of such high regard? Perhaps it's because she pushed me to the "dark side," to stop being Tom and instead become Tomasio. Tom in Hebrew means purity. My mother called me that because she believed that this value was too often lacking in the world. Nonetheless, I can't change the world, nor do I pretend to have such a direct ability.
By changing my name, I have marked myself for the task at hand: The task of becoming more than just myself. More than just purity. To "kill it" and become an empire of self.
It was one woman who showed me my vacancy; it was another who showed me my irrelevancy. If I am as irrelevant as she claims, then I would've ended it all, because if I'm extra weight, then my existence is unnecessary. And why determine my worth in relation to her? Simple. I loved and trusted her.
It isn't about love anymore. I have no reason to love such a degrading woman who treated me so harshly for even the nicest of gestures. It is with her image in mind that I will forge a reason for me to indeed be relevant in this world; not someone that is replaceable, nor expendable.
This is my philosophical duty; to cleanse irrelevancy by showing proof to the world, that my place in this life is indeed vacant, like Mother said, and that vacancy is something that, theoretically, only I could fill. I am a mere extension of philosophy. Proving myself relevant would mean that philosophy itself deserves more relevancy as well. It's the "Why" of Philosocom as well.
It's why I try to philosophize, and why I get irritated when others try to get in my way, because they don't realize, nor care, that I treat life as a task.
I find it dumb to be told to move on, after the reasoning behind your very existence has been challenged. I will not run away from it any longer. I will not accept irrelevancy; I will accept only proof of vacancy, which is this very site that you, the reader, are on. The proof that more is to be done.
I feel as if I am in the midst of a metaphorical battle between importance and disregard; value and devaluation; vacancy and irrelevancy. If the formers will not happen sometime in this life, then I might indeed be as irrelevant as that cursed Chen has claimed.
After all, if I did nothing, what value do I have in this world? What else do I have to live for, if not to serve my purpose? A life of pleasure is one that I can afford but that I might never forgive myself for having. Why? Because that would mean she would win, not me. If I am indeed irrelevant, then... then I might as well be as good as dead. That, I refuse to accept.
Take my example. I am through with being disrespected and looked down upon just because I'm autistic. I am an outcast of society by default. Letting go is often a sign of weakness or of giving up. I did it so many times in my life, even when I was tricked, bullied, and even abused and didn't know what to do.
Socialization taught me to give up without even trying. By escaping, by blocking, by "telling the teachers," I wish I could at least taste the satisfaction of well-served, well-spoken vengeance.
Just give me something I can truly conclude rather than running away from distractions, psychologists' ears, and futile attempts at forgetting. That only postpones the inevitable. What do I get by not becoming victorious?
More hours with professionals? More money spent on extra pills? More video games to distract myself from my problems in life? They all deny the fact that there's a problem, and the problem is the possibility that my life isn't worth anything. That my life is too irrelevant, to be appreciated, by someone to love me as well... I was rarely shown affection outside of my clan, no matter how much I've shown myself...
Revenge is a dish best served with recognition of a fault. Even if she herself will never get the message, she brought me a new vision to life: to prove that my life's position is vacant, the very thing I was called after, by those who named me. One woman convinced me that this position was inherited; the other showed me the truth: that it must be earned through sweat, blood, and asceticism; it must be proven; it must be demonstrated.
And those who do not demonstrated, remain irrelevant to the world at large. And at times, not even loved.