Hell Is Other People 

For the past months or so all I have been doing with my writing is to complain, whine and moan about my loss. I have been writing about all that unintentionally though. It’s as if I have no control over the matter. Every time I hold my pen in my hand to write my emotions surface. As the months pass by the loss is nowhere near over and the pain is even stronger on some days. My life has been out of balance and so far I have not found a new balance.

I know intellectually that I don’t have forever. None of us is here forever. I know that I have to take each day as it comes. I have to:

“Finish each day and be done with it. You have done what you could… Tomorrow is a new day.” Ralph Waldo Emerson

I have had bad days before any of this happened. Why am I then being hard on myself for having them now? I have had regrets before. Is it the finality of death that makes us give regrets more attention than they deserve? Why do I find it hard to cross that line and get over my regrets and think ahead? I know I can’t do it all. At least not alone.

But then I feel that some people are complicating things for me when all I want to do is to find my inner peace and do the things that bring me solace. All I want is to find a place, a corner where somehow I can have my emotions repaired, if that makes sense at all. Jean-Paul Sartre wrote:

“So this is hell. I’d never have believed it. You remember all we were told about the torture-chambers, the fire and brimstone, the “burning marl.” Old wives’ tales! There’s no need for red-hot pokers. Hell is-other people!” 

After all I have been through I find it hard to tolerate people’s lies. I don’t know whether it is a good thing or a bad thing. Lately I find it hard to believe when people say ‘I was going to call you’ or ‘I want to see you’ or ‘when can I see you’ and the moment you give them your schedule, they switch to ‘oh but I am busy’ or ‘I’m working’ etc.


I have always believed that if you really want something in this life you have to go after it yourself. You can’t wait for other people to give it to you. I know now how important it is to stay in touch with people you love and care about. If you really want to see them you make the time to do so. After all, we are not here forever. And what’s in a day? 24 hours, 1440 minutes, 86400 seconds. You don’t work all that time. No one works all that time. No one is that busy to give a few seconds of their day to those they love or care about. After all, it’s the people we love and those we have around us that make this life worth living. Because to quote Friedrich Nietzsche:

“Nobody can build the bridge for you to walk across the river of life, no one but you yourself alone. There are, to be sure, countless paths and bridges and demi-gods which would carry you across this river; but only at the cost of yourself; you would pawn yourself and lose. There is in the world only one way, on which nobody can go, except you: where does it lead? Do not ask, go along with it.”


This entry was posted in Ramblings and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

One Response to Hell Is Other People 

  1. I have a few friends like that. I’m always the one who makes the effort to reconnect with them, but their lives are ‘too busy’ to physically meet for coffee or join me in a brief conversation on the phone. I treasure those who are there for me and try not to feel hurt by those who can’t find the time. Maintain the bridges to those who will always be there for you. If the other bridges crumble and fall from neglect, I suppose there’s no great loss, there. A time of grief is when you discover who your true friends are.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s