Why my second "mentor" ever decided to befriend me is beyond my comprehension, even now I still don't understand. I met him in the weight room, he looked like he was a tall toothpick trying to break himself by throwing weights around. We started talking and I helped him with his form, and afterwords, he kept talking to me. He was educated and quite intelligent, one of those types that seemed to have been caught up with the wrong thing at the wrong time. He and I were total opposites, he was polite, respectful, never said a cuss word, and kept a positive attitude (granted I think he only had year or so to do), and I was just the opposite. Every other word was, "fuck," and I was angry...fuck me was I angry, and hateful. I was respectful, but I wasn't polite...I was still dismantling Nietzsche and had just written those two damned obituaries. John (this second mentor) pretty much took the same approach as the priest, he listened to me rant and rave like he was trying to understand my thought process. Slowly I opened up about some of my struggles and he just asked probing questions. I knew he was trying to help me figure things out and to think more broadly, but it wasn't something I was used to.
Keep in mind the obituaries I wrote. I was in the process of trying to figure out why having integrity, a sense of honor, and being truthful was better than being who I was before (I know, I know, this shit may have come easy for you, but I'm goddamn stubborn and wouldn't accept anything on blind faith anymore...so kiss my ass). Enter "John the Righteous" (joking). John was humble and never acted smug, arrogant, or morally superior to anyone. I remember the tipping point with John and I, and he was so innocent and subtle about it...this is an important part in my story: When I would cuss or get sarcastic, he would simply comment, "I'm going to have to talk to your mother about your attitude." This would result in me cussing him out and berating him because he was aware of the relationship I had with my mother. But, here's the thing...John and I were eating dinner in the cafeteria and I was cussing and really fucking angry. John put his spork down, looked at me and calmly said, "I know you’re a pretty intelligent guy, I'm pretty sure you can think of better ways to express yourself." Then he calmly picked up his spork and finished eating. I sat there dumbfounded, what did he just say? "Hey John, fuck you too, and fuck you very much, and go fuck yourself" was my reply...and he just smirked. That was around 26 years ago and I remember it like it was yesterday. He actually challenged me to believe that I was better than how I was acting...but "better" would imply a stronger sense of morality, wouldn't it? I don't mean moral superiority, I am no better than the worst of the worst in this world.
It's a pretty humbling thing when you realize everything you believed in, all the things you held as values were just superficial, selfish, arrogant lies. Everything about me, I concluded was a lie, nothing more than an attempt to cover up my insecurities, my confusion, my lack of self-worth, and my lack of self-understanding. I had bluffed my way through almost 30 years and it finally caught up with me. I was at the lowest point, I think, in my life. I had no foundational values or beliefs to stand on, I had no idea who or what I was (besides a monster), and I had no idea where to turn. Imagine Alice in Wonderland, at the crossroads with the Cheshire Cat: Alice: "Would you tell me, please, which way I ought to go from here?" Cheshire Cat: "That depends a great deal on where you want to get to." Alice: "I don't much care where." Cheshire Cat: "Then it doesn't matter which way you go." That was where I was, psychologically...and I deserved every second of it.