Embarrassing in Journal

When you chaffe against someone who doesn’t play your game. Just name call. Act superior. Do whatever except the honorable. Okay. I hear you. I accept your lack of honor. Begone.
I defer to reality and principles. I was thinking about this the other day, actually. What it means to be wrong. Or to lose. If someone cared enough to criticize me, they would know that their criticism needs to hinge on the principles that I claim. They would make an argument based on behavior, not intent for example. They would cite what behavior is at odds with my standards.
A conformist, I wager, resists the work to construct such an argument. He imagines names and characterizations to mean something to me, because they mean something to him. He would feel shame or pressure or some form of negative motivating force if these things were brought against him. And he also resists empathizing with me. Choosing instead to treat me badly. It’s sad. I have sympathy for this person.
It’s also really ironic that to characteize negatively, is to act out the violent brute. Since a characteristic is inherently unchosen, it’s nothing more than base bigotry to cast any characteristic in a negative way. Especially to blame someone for it as if it were chosen. It’s ironic because the behavior of bigotry is chosen, while possession of a characteristic is not chosen.
I can see the temptation. It is quite tremendous. I won’t diminish the challenge.. to do that would be to diminish my own accomplishments. So that isn’t consistent.

I am reminded of those times that I refused to believe people when they told me who they are. I don’t want to believe them. It’s foolish. It’s a lack of respect. It is… My own resistance to hopelessness. Or despair.
That despair has something to tell me. It tells me to run. Run before self defense is required. Because it will be, if I stay.