A Quote In View

I just turned on my Kindle Fire tablet, pressed the first downloaded book, flipped through the unread pages casually. And this poem jumped into my view:

“…drunk so deep the cup of bitter fate
As that poor wretch who cannot, cannot love:
He bears a load which nothing can remove,
a killing, withering weight.

He smiles–his sorrow’s deadliest mockery
He speaks–the cold words flow not from his soul;
he acts like others, drains the genial bowl,
Yet, yet he longs–although he fears–to die;
He pants to reach what yet he seems to fly,
Dull life’s extremest goal.”

It is such an accurate picture of a narcissist, which was written in 1810 by Shelley. At the time, there was no research on narcissism yet, but the poet had described a narcissist. It must be my lucky day today, because often I read pages after pages without being able to make a connection with what I am reading. Well, I have to say I often read just for the sake of reading, in order to appease the feeling of not reading enough.

I mean the person in the poem is unaware what he is suffering from. If he admits to it, there are many ways a person can mend, connect, recuperate, and heal. He doesn’t have to drink the bitter cup if he doesn’t want to–there are always alternatives. He doesn’t have to mock his own sorrow or speak soulless words–he can take a risk, unlearn the self-censure he has learned from home or school. The problem is he often doesn’t admit to it. If he admits, he can do a lot of things to help himself.

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Image by Dung Tran from Pixabay