We are all victims at times, we will admit, but we are also all murderers. We destroy. Actually, there are degrees. Ironically, there is never a body count. We never break the skin, so we are rarely punished. These are bloodless murders, and the body actually continues to function. There are some who would argue as long as the body is alive no crime that can be punishable by a court of law has been committed. True, perhaps. But a court of the heart could, and does. A Court of the Soul is all seeing and all knowing, and nothing escapes. All are Punish'ed.
Some murders are savage and, painful; the killer doesn't butcher systematically, but he slaughters, ripping out the guts of his victims before they are even dead. Older children are often this way. They want to control the behavior of their parents, so they cut a vulnerable mother or father off from family events, they use their grandchildren as powerful weapons of mass destruction, they club the victim with his own behavior, with the ball bat of past mistakes, guilt and misunderstandings. They cut the victim off from other relationships, demand funds, and can work in a pack until the victim is isolated, alone, and even dependent on his predators. this is death by banishment. In 13th century Verona, when Romeo was banished, it was a type of execution. Then, when the victim is most isolated, the killers strike like mad dogs. These victims are not nameless. They are known as Grandma, or Mom, Dad, Dad's girlfriend, the Bitch-who-does-she-think-she-is-she-isn't-going-to-be-a-part-of-this-family, or Crazy Uncle Robert, or Aunt Lily, she isn't really my aunt; she's just my uncle's wife, or Grandpa with the Money. They are not allowed franchisement, and that is a cruel death.
Other killers are efficient like lawn mowers, lopping off the tops of everything in their path, grass and flowers alike. Nothing personal; it's just what they do. We are all targets of this sociopath who sees nothing but himself. We are family members, co-workers, club associates, it doesn't matter. Usually, though, we are the fresh meat. We stand out from the herd because we are new, and the other wildebeasts watch, chewing their cud, as we go from part of the heard to the one that is sacrificed for the good of the herd. The ones left standing feel a mute thankfulness, a relief that they have another day, but they know at any moment they could be the next target, and they are perpetual victims...and accomplices.
There are those who only kill the ones they love and who love them back. They rack up body counts because of insanity, stupidity, periods of suffering: they drink, use drugs, or are mentally unstable, and the repetition of self destructive behavior kills the love of family and friends through something akin to Chinese water torture. The repetition of pain eventually brings about breakdown. The victims of this type of killer long for an end to it, but so does this sloppy, lousy killer. Sometimes the victims of this individual grow hard, rather than allow further brutalization. While this can be a way to survive, it also has its potential to destroy. Taken to an extreme, the victims become murderers themselves. They justify the killing. They say it had to be done. They don't want to enable this mental case, this drug user, this drunk, so they effectively off him. It makes life so much simpler. They cut him out; they cast him away. In this circumstance, they can actually share with their friends what they have done. Sometimes they are congratulated and praised. Sometimes the priests of their temples bless them, and rewards are offered to those who bring in the scalp of the outlaw abuser they have killed. These killers brag about their exploits to others, causing an almost unthinkable second death of the sick. Not only has he been cut down, but he is chopped to bits and scattered to the winds of gossip. The Greeks would have understood this as ensuring the dead would never rest, but would wander the earth in misery for eternity. We call it "tough love".
There are lesser deaths that happen almost daily: the snubbing of a friend, cutting someone off on Facebook, unfriending, laughing at another student in class, the rolling of the eyes, cheating, lying, not forgiving. gossiping, not incorporating, racism, sexism, extremism, politics, pundits, watching someone sit alone in the lunch room, even goodbyes...all little deaths. And we all get away with it because no one makes us look or think. Or, like wildebeasts, we have to let it happen or we may lose our grandchildren, or our daughter, or our son, or our status, or our friends or our vacation, or our job, or it could be us!
Not recognizing existence, ignoring, excluding is a type of murder, and no excuse exists because ultimately, it is cruel. Love isn't tough.Love isn't cruel. Love simply is. Love certainly isn't tough for the individual on whom it is bestowed, but loving might be tough for the one who tries to murder...or refuses to forgive or puts qualifiers on love, or gives only on birthdays and only if the person who is receiving that love jumps through the hoop that the giver holds in his hands. It must get old holding hoops out and keeping track of all the exclusions.
Or lets just state it this way: I will love you only if you act like me, and look like me and laugh at the same things I do, and believe in what I do, and support what I do, and do not disappoint me, and do not embarrass me and never get sick and you can only make a certain number of mistakes, and never in public, and they can't be big ones; you have to belong to all the groups I belong to, you can't be divorced, you have to be divorced, you can't cuss, you have to cuss, you can't be a Christian, you can only be a Christian, you have to be a certain type of Christian,you have to be from the eastcoast, you can never be from the midwest, you must be German, you can't be German, You can't be as successful as I, you can't be more successful than I, your husband can't be an ass, your husband has to be an ass, you have to drink and party, you can never drink or party, you must love my kind of music, and my kind of food, and my kind of movies, and my kind of ice cream, my kind of weather, my kind of sport, my team, my school, my clothes, my hair...because if you can't, then I will erase you from my life. You do not exist to me. You are dead.
I have killed you; you have killed me. Annihilation.
Let's break our hearts to love. It won't hurt, not so very badly at all. It won't hurt at all.
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