Sunday, 23 June 2013

Personal hell

It's said that the soul of a person committing suicide will go to hell, which I suppose is a good enough reason not to do it if you believe in such things. But if hell really does exist, and you screwed up in such a way to end up in the realm of fire, torture, and no-win-no-fee lawyers, you'll most likely have your own private suite where you can spend the rest of eternity suffering your worst nightmare. Your own personal hell.

Once again, a lack of anything better to do left me pondering this question and I've come up with a list of possibilities for what my own personal hell could be, ranging from daily trivia to utter horror.
The are plenty of aspects of daily life that I could happily live without, and which in their own right could very well qualify as hell if they were to occur non-stop for all eternity.
Like traffic jams. It's not unknown for me to do a u-turn and take a thirty mile detour to avoid sitting in a jam on the way home from work. I can think of few more pointless ways of wasting my life, with the possible exceptions of daytime TV and trying to understand cricket, and that's the main reason I choose to commute mainly by motorcycle. Traffic jams no longer exist when you're on a bike.
Then we have the torture that is crying babies. We've all been trapped somewhere like a waiting room or restaurant with some rugrat screaming itself purple and the parent doing fuck all to make the little bastard stop. Thirty seconds of that is enough to drive me to the edge of insanity, so an eternity of it is probably pretty close to being my ultimate personal hell.
Or imagine the horror of being tied to a chair in front of an endless stream of reality TV shows. 'Strictly Big Brother On Ice', or 'Help I'm A Washed Up D-list Celebrity, Give Me A Job' for day after day, year after year, would be intolerable for anyone with two brain cells to rub together until the mind simply caved in and you found yourself sitting there in a cheap tracksuit drinking Dutch-piss-lager, stuffing yourself with crisps and Iceland ready-meals, and shouting at the telly.
I could also suggest that the frustration of trying to make a teenage boy get out of bed in the morning and take a shower in slightly less time than it takes the polar ice caps to melt, would be a pretty appalling hell to be stuck in, as would being surrounded by beautiful naked women but not being able to touch or do anything about it. I guess that's why I've never been to a strip club.
But as much as any of these things would cause me untold torment, they pale in comparison to the big one.
This is a personal hell, so the obvious discomforts of fire, whipping, sharp items inserted into the head, and a hundred and one interesting uses for a pair of pliers, are not really relevant here.
My personal hell would have to be being stuck in the middle of a big crowd of people with no sign of a way out. A big outdoor music festival, a department store the week before Christmas, the London Underground, airports, overcrowded city centres; all of these and many other similar situations really would be my own personal hell. I go to great lengths to avoid these situations in my life (although occasionally I have little choice but to try and face them, usually with limited success) which is why I never go abroad on holiday, only go to concerts at small venues, and shop online.
Crowds freak me out. I feel a total pussy for being so weak over something that the majority seem to regard as so perfectly normal that they don't give it a second thought, but there's nothing I can do to make myself deal with it successfully.
So there we have it. A big crowd of people is my own personal hell. Throw in the added misery of those people having bad personal hygiene and you have a scenario that would definitely ensure that I could never off myself, no matter how bad things get. Assuming I believed in hell of course.....