Life asks of us at least two things: we must seek to understand ourselves and we must seek to understand others. As an existentialist, who writes most of his writings from a thoroughly subjectivist perspective, I have a lot to say about what I think of others. However, what I think of others is almost always wrong and is merely a construct of my subjective worldview. I’ve been dealing with other people for a while now and I have had the pleasure of seeing relationships come and relationships go. What never ceases to amaze me is my subjectivity. But even here, I recognize what others think and what others most likely are from an objectivist perspective. Nonetheless, I choose my own subjective worldview and look at people how I truly see them. Objectively speaking, many of us could hate or love one another. But most relationships aren’t objective. That’s the problem with human existence. When a father raises a daughter, she is the apple of his eye. What he sees in her nobody else sees. His love for her is multitudes stronger than his love for virtually anything else; it pails in comparison. The father doesn’t objectively evaluate his daughter and then determines how to respond to her in existential relationships. He looks at her from his holistic subjective worldview and chooses to love her. He sees all that is good in her and hopes that all that is bad would soon be eradicated and fixed. Such is the subjectivist perspective on relationships.
From a subjective perspective, a girl that I’ve recently communicated with hurt me. She doesn’t know about it and she never will. But she has. And I don’t blame her. At all.
You see, she isn’t an existentialist, so she is not under our ethical obligations. She is not forced to see her subjectivity in relationship to others. She is free, so to speak, to think whatever she may think, be it right or wrong. Apparently, she is an avid lover of football. Now, in and of itself, this means nothing. It is an objective fact and people can do whatever they want with facts. But she loves football nonetheless. She values it more than she values her relationship to me. She, of course, is completely unaware of anything and she never will be – since I keep to myself and do not like to expose my subjective feelings and impose my own thoughts upon others. This is why I prefer to write about my thoughts rather than express them directly. I almost always use indirect communication in relationships. Except in my most intimate ones. She is under no obligation to write me at all. She is free to do whatever she wants. From her own perspective, she could even deny my existence. But that would do nothing to my subjective worldview. It would still exist. My feelings about our modest relationship would still exist and my thoughts about her would still be very much present in the aches and pains of my daily life.
She has chosen football over me.
For me, this is quite a horrible thing to do. For me. However, even I recognize that for her it means nothing. She is not obligated to place herself in a relationship with me. From a subjectivist point of view, I recognize that she is a good person. Neither do I attribute these actions to her objective existence. These actions of “hers” are mine and mine alone. They belong to me. My construct of her belongs to me.
I cannot ever blame her for anything. The fact that she ignores me at times or the fact that she values football over time spent with me never crosses her naive mind.
But it is in this very moment – this subjective existential crisis – that she loses me. She loses me as an individual. And I, too, sadly lose her.
All this time, as I’ve stated before, I do not in any way impose these subjective feelings upon her. She is upright and remains free of blemish. The blemish itself is I.
I don’t blame her for spending her Sundays watching football instead of with me.
I don’t blame her at all.
What I do is merely ponder my own feelings. Oh well, such is life.
It’s been several weeks now and I understand her trying to maintain her distance.
I respect it as an objectivist.
But the real I – the real subjective human being – is broken and crushed.