It’s not much fun, being a monster. Would not recommend it. You get these constant reminders of what everyone thinks of you. Society loves a good villain. How can our heroes be truly heroic if those they pursue aren’t truly evil? Writers love to plumb the depths of human depravity, and audiences eat it up.
The obvious response to this is “just stop being evil.” Unfortunately, your past casts a long shadow. Some things mark you as forever beyond the pale, even after you stop. Besides which, the motivations that led you to that point don’t just disappear. If you’re sufficiently fucked in the head, realising that something is wrong doesn’t stop you wanting it. So even after you’ve changed your actions, you still identify with them.
All of which leads me to believe that I really should off myself. I can’t live a worthwhile life, and all I’m doing here is tormenting myself. If only I wasn’t so fucking scared, and I didn’t care about the impact on my family.
I don’t know how to not be miserable. I make myself moreg miserable, with everything I do. I’ve carried it with me for years, spreading it around. I just don’t know how to be OK with reality. How to accept it. And I’ve dug a hole deeper and deeper, to try to escape it. Until I did things that were truly unacceptable, over and over. And I don’t want to live with that, but I’m too afraid to end it. So I suffer, and I try to escape that suffering.