Charity

It's funny, but as far as I know I haven't been hated quite like this since high school; and of course back then I let it slide because all of us were young and stupid. I remember one night friends of my own "friend" decided to milk my car--when I went out the next morning to go to school, I opened the door and milk spilled out. It was disgusting to say the least--soggy, smelly, and just sad--fortunately it wasn't the nicest car in the world, but my poor little Toyota wasn't ever the same after that. The most unfortunate part wasn't the car of course, but that I wasn't ever the same after that. Things like that, well, they hurt.

What's really funny is that things like that were quite common in my high school days, and I learned to deal with them; I didn't like it of course, but you have to survive. Now I'm older, more mature, stronger, right? I thought so anyway, but maybe I'm wrong. I thought I could handle someone resenting me much, but I think now it's even worse. I don't expect everyone and their dog to love me, that's ridiculous, but as far as I know I haven't done anything to warrant such strong enmity toward me. Maybe I missed something. While I was away in London Town some very lovely person decided to pour soda pop all over the inside of my car; it's summer, so the windows were partially down I admit, but it would have taken some extra effort to make the mess that I found when I came home. I spent almost all day Saturday in a futile struggle, scrubbing the interior of my car. The ceiling is still speckled, and it smells like Dr. Pepper--much better than milk, I assure you.

When I finally gave up (hence why the ceiling is still speckled), I was proud of the work I had done, and really not all that bothered by the mess (I like to clean, it's strange). However, I am still trying to understand the motivation behind these things. I wasn't expecting such animosity when I came back, that's for sure. And it is of course possible that it was a random act by some dumb random teenager, but then again, few criminals can cover up all their tracks I'm afraid, and it pains my heart to think that I possibly know this person.

If it was a one time thing I would accept it and move on; but for some reason these things keep coming back to me. A neighbor sent the dog catcher after me this last week, instead of just coming to my house and confronting the problem directly--if my dog is causing problems, I am more than happy to take care of it. Did she really need to send me to court over it? I had another incident again today, and honestly--if I have done something to offend someone, I would feel so much better!--but the incident involves a good friend and I can't quite figure out what my offense would have been. I've racked my mind and come up empty handed. I know I've hurt people in the past, but I never meant to--and when I know I've hurt them I do try to help repair the damage. But who did I hurt so terribly and I never knew?

Oh well. I guess in the end I just wish that if someone had a problem with me, they would COME TO ME AND TELL ME! We're adults, right? Why can't you just tell me instead of going behind my back?

The worst part is that I can't hate back--I so wish that I could. But I just can't. Charity. Love. Compassion. Friendship. These are the true dealers of the deepest pain sometimes. But they are also the dealers of the deepest joy, which is why we hold on to them. Sometimes I just fantasize and wish that it wasn't such a sharp two-edged sword. Then again, I have been known to be a masochist at times.