Mostly I just want to not experience this anymore. I’m the bad guy in my own life, but I don’t know how to stop. You always think of the villain in a story “Why don’t you just stop being like that? Just stop being such an asshole.” Just stop. Simple.
But I still have these emotions and thoughts, even when I’m not acting on them. I still want to do bad things, deep down. I don’t know how to stop that. Or how to want to stop. How do you stop yourself from wanting something? How do you amputate off your deepest emotions and drives? Where would the motivation to do that come from, except from you deepest motivations and drives?
And it sucks, because I also get to see myself through the eyes of others. I understand their disgust. I hold myself in the same contempt. But it doesn’t change anything. No matter how many times I’m reminded how wrong it is, it doesn’t stop me wanting it.
So I feel even more alienated, and resentful of the world, for reflecting my hideousness back to me. I feel angry at reality, for placing me in this position. I feel angry at myself, for drifting into this position.
On some level I just want to stop. I’m so tired of this – of being this. Of having this shit constantly going through my mind. I never imagined this is what I’d become. I didn’t sign up for it – not knowingly, anyway. No Faustian pacts were signed. I actually deluded myself into believing I was a good person for most of my life. I didn’t even really realise I was crossing a line until I was far over it.
Which is not to say that I’m a victim (except in the sense that everyone is a victim of reality). I wouldn’t expect anyone to feel sorry for me. But the pain remains, even if it’s self-inflicted. Bad people still suffer. I can’t say I don’t deserve it, but it doesn’t do anyone any good. It doesn’t serve as a moral lesson to society as a whole. It’s just pointless misery.
I want to be free of this, but there is no freedom from this, because this is me. There is no me left without it – it’s too core to my personality. Remove it and all you’d have are vague disconnected memories of a childhood. There would be no basis to continue living.
So this feeling is an integral part of my life, and if I want to stop it then I’ll need to end my life. The question is do I want that enough, consistently? And if so, can I find the determination to go through with it? I’ve given myself a target of six months to try and figure that out.