merridia | (no subject)

Sometimes the original context behind a neat memetic phrase can really blow me away.

Years ago a friend of mine had a dream about a strange invention; a staircase you could descend deep underground, in which you heard recordings of all the things anyone had ever said about you, both good and bad. The catch was, you had to pass through all the worst things people had said before you could get to the highest compliments at the very bottom. There is no way I would ever make it more than two and a half steps down such a staircase, but I understand its terrible logic: if we want the rewards of being loved we have to submit to the mortifying ordeal of being known.

It's from an NYT piece called I Know What You Think of Me, by Tim Kreider.

One more day to freedom.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

I don't think I could consider it the "mortifying ordeal of being known," it's the horrifying shame of listening to everything every bully has ever said about you, to your face and behind your back, and I would never put myself through that kind of psychological torture voluntarily.

Maybe someone else would consider it truth, but I could never consider it that way.