At what time does extending an arm of friendship transmute to being a hand of oppression?
Everyday, around 9 pm, I start getting the message. Bzz, bzz, new message from HaplessStudent! bzz bzz, new message from LostInWebassign! Bzz bzz, new message from deathByHomework! And every single one of your messages, I respond to.
I respond to the trivial matters over what homework is due tomorrow, over the more insightful essay evaluations; I respond to the daily Chinese checks to the long winded discussions about physics.
And sometimes, I really wonder:
Am I actually helping?
See, one of the things that I fear for is that I’ve become a tool. Nothing more, nothing less. Just a calculator, ready to spit out the right or wrong answers. An unthinking, cold, emotionless instrument. Flawed to, so that when the next model comes, everyone will just snatch that up and leaving me behind.
I guess that that’s actually a pretty bad state of mind. Betcha 4.2 bucks that there is some kind of psych theory behind that kind of behavior.
It’s sort of like a reverse Stockholm syndrome, where instead of feeling allegiance to the person abusing me, I feel allegiance to the person that I’m helping? Whatever, I know that I’m messed up somehow. I guess better this than anything else.
You know what, it isn’t cool.
The thing is, I am addicted. I’ve been addicted to a point that I’ve lost half of my humanity, and I don’t know how to carry out a decent conversation to save my life. Oh yeah, I make excuses. “I don’t want to talk because STUDIES.” “Oh, I’m too busy because STUDIES” “Oh, I wouldn’t have gotten to known them because they don’t have the same STUDIES”. Seems like I don’t really get to get out.
Mediocracy has infiltrated too, but that’s for another discussion.
Even worse, I think that by helping others, I’ve helped them too much. Giving them too much fish to eat has made them fat and lazy, and no knowledge of fishing means that they’re going to starve soon. I guess if I wanted to kill them, I would do this a lot more, but honestly, I just want to help.
I wonder how many times had that argument come up. “He just wanted to help. He was a good kid, he was just trying to save the kid’s life.” who would’ve known that by cutting a path straight through the chest into the lungs doesn’t actually help anyone breathe?
IDK, I’m sleep deprived. I need to get words off my chest. g’night.