I have always been struck by the fact that in Dante’s Inferno so many characters ask to be written about and immortalized by the great writer. My first instinct when encountering these scenes was probably the same as most readers which was to dismiss these parts as shallow self aggrandizement. But I believe Dante was both smarter and a better writer than I am which caused me to rethink these sections and question why they are so frequent in the text. It’s hard to imagine that someones work would stand the test of time if they were so inclined to repeatedly perform the literary equivalent of sticking their own dick in their mouth putting both hands in the air and shouting “look ma no hands”. So if Dante wasn’t giving himself a rusty Ouroboros what else could be trying to say? It is my humble opinion that Dante was trying to communicate a basic fact about human psychology which is pervasive in the minds of those who live in Hell. He was trying to give a warning to the readers about a common pattern of thought he sees in those who are beyond saving and unable to accept the love of God. These people are trapped in an eternity of torturer and yet all they seem to be concerned with is the perpetuation of their own story. They don’t ask for mercy, or even why a loving God sees it fit that they be tortured, instead they just ask for the very thing that led them to there current situation.
After going through a breakup that effected me more than I’d like to admit I kept thinking back to these scenes in the Inferno. I didn’t do it because I thought I was destined for Hell or because I thought she was despite how badly I wish I could delude myself into thinking that she deserved it. The reason I thought about it was because in my most melodramatic and idiotic state I did have a couple of embarrassing fantasies about killing myself for her. I would do it tastefully of course, I wouldn’t do it in front of her and most of the time I didn’t even say she was the cause of it in my imagined suicide note. Just a simple text like, “I’ll always love you” before pulling the trigger or sometimes even more embarrassing messages that even I am not shameless enough to write about even through the veil of anonymity. I am not proud of these fantasies and I wish I never had them but I did and despite still being pretty heartbroken from the experience these thoughts make me laugh in the way I imagine one would laugh when looking back at the naivety of an old journal or diary one kept in middle school. The reason I connect my very poorly written melodramatic day dreams to Dante’s masterpiece is because I believe this type of thought pattern is exactly what Dante was warning readers about when writing the first book in his trilogy. I wasn’t literally in Hell of course but when someone you love leaves you it’s very easy and tempting to convince yourself that you are and I’m ashamed to admit that I had moments where my thoughts were indistinguishable from those who really live there. I wanted my story to echo in hers forever, I couldn’t have her anymore but maybe I could have my story be a part of hers even if I wouldn’t be there to see it. I hoped that she would question herself forever, that she would always know how pure my love was and that it would infect her and all previous relationships she would have after me. Sure your husband of five years loves you but would he really kill himself for you like that douchebag you dated all those years ago? The narcissist (sorry for dropping the N word I know I’m not daddy TLP I’m sorry) doesn’t necessarily want to be the coolest guy in the room or the dude with the biggest dick and the hottest chick all that matters is that he can force whatever identity he has chosen for himself into the minds of others. It is the complete rejection of the idea that others get to define you, there are no narcissists on a desert island but Hell seems to be full of them. In those moments where I was at my lowest and let myself succumb to these pathetic thoughts I did not fantasies about change or even gettingher back I just wanted to perpetuate my story even if that story was the guy who killed himself for her.
I don’t know if I have a bigger message here or some grand profound ending with a hopeful message but it did make me reconsider moments from my own life and the lives of others where either them or I lashed out from anger or sadness. I don’t think it’s as simple as ‘people in pain do dumb shit’ but rather that people in pain try to cease control of the narrative or their identity. Thinking back on moments where I lashed out it wasn’t even necessarily when I was in the most agonizing pain or when I felt the most depressed but instead it was when I felt that my life was the most out of control. I think people act out to regain the story of themselves and spread that perception to others even if that story is “I am a piece of shit”, or even “I am in pain”. This type of narrative building or communication isn’t meant to help or even really to communicate it is a way to control everyone around you and to ensure that when they walk away they have an image in their head that matches the one you painted. I’m not sure whether this is cannon or hearsay but I read somewhere that Hell is just the rejection of God’s love. You don’t have to believe in God to understand this point and I’m not trying to give a easy “Jesus loves you” kind of solution. The idea sounds cheesy but to the people truly in Hell at least in Dante’s conception of hell this line seems to ring true. A narcasist is incapable of love beccause other people don’t exist, they are only supporting characters whose existence only serves to flush out the protagonists identity. This is why those in Hell will always remain in Hell and why even in their immense suffering those being tormented cannot even for a second allow anyone else to define them, not even God, not even if that means spending endless time in nothing but pain. They must have their own story even if it’s just a cautionary tale.