Is the act of eating strawberries a violent and exploitative endeavor in which one organism crushes and consumes the life-energy of another? In other words, the way in which we interpret life matters. And if people genuinely disagree on whether certain things are right or wrong, then the solidity of our reality is far from set.
And if our interpretation of reality is indeed malleable, why would we ever shape it in a way that causes distress? In other words, if I find strawberries delicious, why would I ever interpret the act of eating them as sadistic? By plucking it from the bush and consuming it, I’m clearly ending the fruitful-existence of the strawberry — but why would I want to see that as cruel?
Instead, I choose to see it as a celebration of life. The strawberry and my body are part of a choreographed dance in which we coordinate to make the cycle-of-life happen. It’s a beautiful thing. There’s nothing grotesque or brutish about it. And deep down I see the entire scene as flickering pixels anyway, there was nothing truly lost and nothing truly gained (except for the entertainment value of the experience).
Yet, there’s things I do interpret negatively, resulting in an associated experience of distress. For instance, I hate cheesecake — f*ck that stuff, I’m sorry but it’s gross. Look, now I’m all upset, and it’s stupid-cheesecake’s fault! I told you that crap was no good. But the question is, why would I do that to myself? Why bother to interpret something as bad when it changes NOTHING but my mood (from good to bad)?
Stupid right? And the solution is obvious. If I want to remain in a good mood, I should simply accept life as it is and assign a pleasant interpretation to EVERYTHING i.e. The Pollyanna Approach to Life. If that’s the obvious solution, and I’m NOT implementing it, what does that tell you? It implies that I enjoy the feeling of outrage. Oops.
Ladies and gentleman of the jury, the evidence is quite clear on this matter, the defendant is a sicko that gets-off on the anger and disgust and condemnation he feels towards life’s innocent artifacts. He conjures up the most malevolent fantasies imaginable just to feel indignation surge through his body — this is the very definition of a deranged individual.
Does negativity then qualify as an addiction? Something done for the rush yet results in distress and can’t easily be stopped? Perhaps it’s time to quit the stuff? It’s time to put down the pessimism, lay off the fear, and back away from the constant criticism. Wait, just one more scare! Come on! How about a little disparagement at least? No, no, I can’t!
Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I ask for lenience. An addiction by definition is something not easily controlled. For whatever reason I became addicted to negativity — and I’ve carried that burden throughout life. I’ve paid the price for harboring such pessimism, locked in a prison of my own making. I was blind, but now I see. I can henceforth dedicate my life to a new and better perspective. And with that improved outlook I can help others who have a similar predilection for the gloom and doom.