"The edge...There is no honest way to explain it because the only people who know where it is are the ones who have gone over."
People love to empathize. Excepting pleasantries, there's no one phrase more frequently repeated to me than, "I know how you feel." It's a kind sentiment, but it's nonetheless bullshit. Nobody can sit there and tell me how I feel. That they would even presume to understand is a bit insulting.
My mother, the self-appointed expert of all pain that has ever been felt, loves to tell me that she knows exactly how I feel. She's been there, she understands. But that's just not correct. Pain is different for each person. It's relative. Her breaking point is certainly not the same as my breaking point. She'll never completely understand my shit, just as I'll never fully comprehend hers. When it comes to the edge, we're all a bit subjective; we're all jumping off our own cliffs.
I knew a guy once who absolutely went over the edge. He used to show me the scars on his hands from where he pushed his knuckles through the blades of a fan. Though I am no stranger to self-harm, I still don't know what the hell that was about. Yeah, he told me his life story and I feel for him and where he's coming from, but I'm never going to be able to know his suffering so well that I can explain it honestly.
Without getting too deep into philosophy, let's all just acknowledge this: pain is relative, truth is relative, and we really won't ever be able to honestly explain that.
Lexi Rotnicki
People love to empathize. Excepting pleasantries, there's no one phrase more frequently repeated to me than, "I know how you feel." It's a kind sentiment, but it's nonetheless bullshit. Nobody can sit there and tell me how I feel. That they would even presume to understand is a bit insulting.
My mother, the self-appointed expert of all pain that has ever been felt, loves to tell me that she knows exactly how I feel. She's been there, she understands. But that's just not correct. Pain is different for each person. It's relative. Her breaking point is certainly not the same as my breaking point. She'll never completely understand my shit, just as I'll never fully comprehend hers. When it comes to the edge, we're all a bit subjective; we're all jumping off our own cliffs.
I knew a guy once who absolutely went over the edge. He used to show me the scars on his hands from where he pushed his knuckles through the blades of a fan. Though I am no stranger to self-harm, I still don't know what the hell that was about. Yeah, he told me his life story and I feel for him and where he's coming from, but I'm never going to be able to know his suffering so well that I can explain it honestly.
Without getting too deep into philosophy, let's all just acknowledge this: pain is relative, truth is relative, and we really won't ever be able to honestly explain that.
Lexi Rotnicki
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