Filter

Exercising restraint when it comes to speaking my mind is difficult at best.  It is not my actions that let others see behind my mask so much as it is my words.  I have met few worthy of my time or my words.  Wasting either on those that I neither find intelligent nor worthy of my respect further degrades my filtering.  “You shouldn’t have done X because of Y, what were you thinking?”  Or, it could be that I find their suffering so delicious and amusing that I can’t help but interject with commentary they find inappropriate.  “Oh, I’m sorry that your family had a murder-suicide.  At least they got the order right.”

My filter may be weak, but at times I’ll deliberately turn it off just to see the reaction of the toy in front of me.  I remember when I was much younger, maybe 13 or 14, a time in which my family had their own murder-suicide.  I’d make statements like the one quoted above.  I hated my father for many reasons and seeing him become enraged was very satisfying.  I knew that he knew that he had no control over me, but I wanted to see him become frustrated.  For others the joy comes from seeing their mental state exacerbated.  Seeing depression made worse or anger inflamed gives me a sense of power over that person.

The difference between the two ways my lack of a filter manifests is simply based on intent.  I rarely do the latter with those that are close and the former is simply inescapable.  The former can be excused if an otherwise gracious and respectful mask is worn most of the time.  The latter is pure sadism.   I suspect you take the same approach.  Ultimately this lack of filtering is quite ironic.  We, the masters of deceit, can also be the most honest people that you will ever know.

Image is s licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 3.0 Unported license.  Use of this image should not imply endorsement of this material by the image author, Wikimedia user 1wPhipps.

Embracing Shadow
Memento

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