the elephant man

in lisbons' downtown, by one of the most famous cafés of the city, dwells the elephant man - he has a very rare disease that turned his face into a chunk of rotting meat. i remember the first time i saw him; the feeling of my entrails revolving comes back when i think of it. that man, however, could be cured. over the time, several doctors and surgeons - national and international - offered to treat him for free, since he's a homeless, and has no way to afford treatment. yet he refused. the reason: the treatment implied a blood transfusion, and apparently it's against his religion to do. recently, however, an english doctor offered him a new treatment, that does not imply a transfusion. i don't know whether the elephant man will accept it or not.

even so. i can't pity him. okay, he has a rare condition that i wish for no one, not even for the ones i hate the most. yet he had the opportunity - several opportunities - to be cured and try to have a normal life. and he refused because "it's against religion". fuck religion, for god's sake. i'd never help a man like this one - miserable by his own choice, because as long as people pity him, he won't have to care about anything.

it's not the only one like this that i know, unfortunately. life is hard, the world is a tough place to live in. i've met many people whose misery was self inflicted, for as long as they passed as miserable, people would do anything. one of them almost drove me insane five summers ago. i can hardly fee pity on anyone, let alone folk who chose the easiest way like this.