December 17, 2008

• Deep Within

  There’s a monster inside of me in the deepest nook of my mind, the darkest cranny of my soul. It has always been there frozen and dormant, wishing and waiting to seize the perfect opportunity for control. No shape or form can describe it. No answer can say whether or not it has been simply sealed away for my own survival.

  Sometimes I can feel it slamming against my thoughts in disagreement, urging me to do the unspeakable. When conflict strikes me at times, my anger may be easily dissolved, for this brooding monster quenches its absolute and infinite thirst for negativity and absorbs it in entirety, leaving me to feel cool and content with myself. But, if it does feed, why is it never satisfied? Why must it always lust the pain of those who deserve it in which it may offer pleasure unto my own heart? At times I feel that regardless of what situations I fall into, I may end up recklessly sacrificing my own safety and life just to hurt or kill a thief or murderer. Simply because their wronging goes against my moral standards and in the back of my head I feel that it is justified by attempting to take the only thing that was ever theirs.

  Is it that I want to help and save someone, do I want to be a hero? No, these thoughts are not of heroism nor justice, but vengeance. Then again, vengeance could be just the only unlatched door in which the “monster” can escape from through my own maze of morale standards and codes. Something that most people are taught and brainwashed with since childhood so that we may happily coexist while minimizing conflict.

  Even at times where absolutely nothing is wrong at all, there are thoughts of doing the worst imaginable thing possible floating around. To break something of great value or hurt a stranger or someone else of complete innocence to the naked eye? Could it be that I somehow inherently know that they have or will do wrong? No, perhaps not. These are the easiest of the urges to ignore, but I wonder why they are ever there to begin with.

  When I hear or read of a story in which one is wronged. Say a family has their house broken, is robbed, beaten, raped, and/or killed, I am immediately angered and deep and within surges a strong chilling lust for the blood of the story’s perpetrators. I do not believe that this feeling is sexual, but it is akin to many other needs such as hunger or thirst. Starving myself does no harm, but without an outlet to disperse such emotions, could it?

  There once was a time that I used to walk in the darkest of alleys and parks in the middle of the night just waiting for something bad to happen. Could it have been mere sadness that led me to believe that someone would relieve me of such torturous thoughts, was it a mere wish for death, because I was unwilling to take my life into my own hands. Or was I so lonely that I wanted a playmate that lacks any sense of morales and remorse, who deserved to be tortured and killed?

  But it all comes back to one point, unspoken thoughts do not cause pain or damage to other people, it is actions that do.

  • 3:25 am
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