Scratch
Let’s not be under any illusions about this; we’re all made from scratch. We’re lumps of carbon-based flesh arbitrarily sitting here at our desks from 9 to 5, floating around on this rock which is itself floating around in infinite space, wishing for something better than we’ve been given, even if we’ve been given more than most could ever dream of. It’s hard to say whether or not anyone is really born bad, because then you’d have to define “bad” to begin with, and I’m not so sure that’s even definable. We ache for nothing and everything all at once. It’s a travesty, but not in a bad way. There I am using that word again, “bad.” I had a conversation last night about how we learn to love. The people among us who witness the worst in humanity as children often learn to perpetuate it, or they learn to be subject to it, which is itself a form of perpetuation. By that I don’t mean to make any judgments that would sound like victim blaming, though I suppose it’s impossible not to judge. Even if we’re made from scratch, we’re also born judges. Those judgments may be polite and reserved and come with disclaimers and a “no offense,” but they’re still judgments. It’s how we learn to interact with the world and understand it—through judgment. It’s only a matter of whether or not we believe those judgments reflect on ourselves (they usually do). Do you hear what I’m saying?