Life is very complicated. People can be very complex. Tragedy occurs and should you dare to feel emotion and understand aspects of the broken, you are immediately vilified. Are doctors, psychologists, the police and all the incredible people who work with disturbed individuals “sympathisers” or whatever other socially trendy labels you want to throat punch them with? I feel empathic surges on an incredibly nauseating scale and sometimes. Just sometimes. Even the most controversial people touch the soul.
You know who the person above is. Jeffrey Dahmer. A name shadow-banned by Instagram. There’s endless footage, interviews and opinions on the Internet to explore. You know of his controversial crimes and background. How he was bludgeoned to death which people praise as justice. But it isn’t justice. It took away nothing whatsoever from the story, didn’t bring back any victims for their families. lt caused his already reeling and self-doubting family yet more pain to cope with. Having to identify your son lay there shackled in a mortuary. Those shackles, to me, are such a vindictive fuck you. Not to the deceased, he’s gone, but to his devastated parents.
There are very interesting parallels in his background and mine. Hence me feeling kicked in the liver. As a country girl in Scotland, my dad and I often found dead animals and used to investigate them. I was given a dissection kit and microscope by uncle Enoch, a warm Christian man we knew, when I was around 11 and given my interest in anatomy, a whole new world opened up for me. An incredible new world beneath matted fur. I got my books out and carefully identified each structure. Do you know how damn cute a mouse’s heart is? This exploration over the years eventually lead me to the conclusion that I wanted to work in end of life services when I left school. I was often deemed weird and other clichéd verbal bullets by those who did not understand me but I respected their ignorance.
Parallel with my fascination with anatomy and physiology I watched Disney films and enjoyed many positive times with my family and few friends. My “dark side” was balanced with love, light and comedy.
At the same time I felt this inner sensation that I didn’t understand and would later, much later, learn to be borderline personality disorder. Jeffrey was also thought to have had this condition hence why I completely understood certain issues he had in that respect. He didn’t seem to have much stabilisation and light to balance him out. His sexual development is an area beyond my abilities however my psychologist and I once discussed how sex and violence, love and hate are interestingly similar in physical feeling.
Many people are trains trundling along on their tracks however some people switch tracks and end up on completely different journeys.
And sadly a number of people completely derail and become runaway trains to their ultimate doom.
People are not monsters but the sad fact is people do monstrous things
Copyright © 2022 Sharon Lawson™ All Rights Reserved
7 thoughts on “Little Boy Lost”
even the prisoners have a code. and they killed him.
They weren’t heroes, Jeff’s parents suffered terribly.
they did, he did. we all do sadly.
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