Yep, no gratitude whatsoever. Just confusion, anger, disappointment, and frustration. I had a hard time sleeping well at nights and my thoughts and feelings were all muddled. I was disappointed at some of the things people have written in FB, but mainly I was disappointed being human. I wanted to stop being human, if that makes any sense at all. I felt like what should have been talked about privately shouldn't have spilled outside in public places like FB as it only produce more reactions instead of healthy discussions. I felt that people should have just shut up instead of posting things that may only provoke other people.
All those random things that I read in FB made me feel like I was surrounded by so many mirrors, each reflecting my dark sides that had been lurking in the back, threatening to swallow me up whole. It was very disturbing to be made very aware of those sides that dwell inside of me, because all I wanted to do was to close my eyes and stay the hell away from those mirrors or break those mirrors altogether.
Reading Ecclesiastes comforted me somehow. I wasn't the only one who felt like everything we did was like chasing the wind, yet for days my brain was still muddled. Yesterday I finally found a clarifying moment. What disturbed me the most was knowing that I could have been one of those people who fussed over nothing amidst a tragedy (for example why one puts up/doesn't put up a tricolor profile photo), who posted reactive texts instead of discussing my thoughts/feelings in private, who shared stuff without thinking/checking twice, etc.
You see, if I read about what a psychopath has done (for example), I feel that there's a huge emotional distance between what that person is capable of doing with what I am capable of doing, but what about the emotional distance between me and those people in FB? Well, the distance between us was way too close. I get where they were coming from. I could have easily done similar things. I have been guilty of similar things.
A few nights ago, I had a dream where I had been attacked. All I remember from that scene was that I was standing up, still alive, looking like Frankenstein. Lots of cuts and bruises ALL over me (including my face) and stitch marks all over. Yep, my dream was very much in line with my inner world. But you know what? I was still alive. That was the part that I held on to. I'm still alive. I still have a lot of inner work to do, but may I learn how to be wise with my words and actions...