It’s kind of absurd how one of the worst things in the world has come to feel like the most amazing thing in my mind. How could someone become so morally confused? I suppose it happened gradually. Years of ignoring taboos, pushing boundaries. Sinking to the lowest depths to avoid facing feelings I didn’t know how to deal with.
But I can’t help thinking there was always something inherent in me, some disposition or vulnerability to evil. I don’t think I would have chosen this from a position of total moral clarity. Something was always wrong, and it just grew with me.
Could it have been otherwise? Theoretically. If events had turned out otherwise. A few random encounters, and maybe things shake out very differently. Or possibly it would always have found a way out of me in any circumstance.
It’s the dissonance that gets to me. Knowing rationally that something is so wrong, yet feeling emotionally that it’s so right. It’s deranging.
I don’t want to cause anyone suffering. I find it hard to envision a circumstance where I would. But the desire is so deep within me. It feels essential and compelling, then awful and terrifying. I can’t accept it, but I can’t stop it either. It consumes and torments me, but also provides brief escape from that torment.