I’m not of the abject. Or at least my connections is generations removed. Funny how we trace our lineages by their distance from the common. “Old Family.” “New Money”. “Jr.” “I,II,III,IV, etc.”

What makes them so? Poverty, violence, compulsion, insecurity, illness. For some, these characteristics define life. For others, they are elements of a larger life. Perhaps I am a bit abject.

The binary code, of alpha and omega, paints existence in shades of gray.

I’m only a thought. I live as long as I capture the imagination.

This is it. Hell. We are all here right now. All the levels. Right here. Separated by gates, oceans, castes, prejudices.

There are roughly two ends to the suffering – the abjectly suffering and the vicariously suffering. People slide between the two through their lives, but always the suffering is there.

Redemption can be found here – amid the horror of life. Redemption demands that we buoy our spirits while wading into the despair of the abjectly suffering.

Hell is subtle. It gives salience to pain by providing pleasure. The contrast keeps our souls alert so that they may experience each excruciating moment.

I fear the suffering of others. It reminds me of my own inevitable pain. So I ignore. I revel. I live. I love. I avoid my pain and others’.

The cruel trick of Hell is that avoiding the pain of others lays the way to my own pain. The more I ignore the more I am aware. I begin to fear the abject suffering around me. I fear that they will take the bit of comfort I have secured. Drag me down to them like one drowning man to another.

Like going to the water, only by wading in may I swim.