Just writing to write. To be consistent about something. To weave a minor thread throughout this forgettable quilt. Insights are hitting me fast these days, too fast to pause and put them onto the screen. To store them on a hard drive, flash drive, online backup.
I can see the years behind me now as a course of victim-as-weapon. All the times you might have hurt me, or any perceived slight, becomes ammo to throw in your face should the opportunity ever arise.
First, I had to stop caring completely—about why I wasn’t negotiating life successfully like you do. Then, I had to see that most of what you’re winning from life isn’t what I wanted, anyway. Finally, I had to see myself in that awful light, where I sat and stewed, hurt from some past transgression, waiting to spring it back upon you—make you feel guilty, return the hurt a hundredfold so that you’d be certain to feel my pain. And, no, I would not stop until you were visibly hurting. Of course, by then you were out of my life—either dead or permanently departed.
No worries, because you always came back—with a different face or name—it didn’t matter. I was too much of a sociopath to believe that there were billions of individuals sharing the planet with me. Instead, it sufficed for me to warp my reality until each soul that interfaced with me was merely the same soul, transmogrified by higher dimensional, alternate reality magic.
Through all my endless talk of self improvement, it became clear that self improvement was not the goal so much as finding a way of being where I could obtain access to large numbers of people to treat inhumanly, lording over them whatever my sick soul desired. A way of being that was perfected to win the confidence of my future cult, but never to compromise my precious, perfect soul.
Without the love and guidance of my mother, I would have ended life abruptly, as a madman, serial killer, cult leader, philanderer, or something much worse. She instilled in me basic morals you take for granted. At my worst, I still could not shake them.
Finally, I realized that whatever good inside me was there in spite of me, not because of me. It was there because of God and my parents, and teachers and other adults in the community who refused to see me turn completely to Evil.
And, I realized that all of you around me had long since truly developed yourselves into being the human beings you were meant to be, while I’d lurked about in the grass like a slithery gray slug, hoping secretly I’d get to be a snake someday.