I think I broke my sense of morality a long time ago. Possibly when I was still a child. And I’ve been trying somewhat to artificially re-construct it for a while. I have some of the vague reasoning mapped out, for why what everyone else seems to believe is actually reasonable and valid. But that doesn’t mean I actually feel it. At least, not most of the time. A lot of the time, I want to do the worst things imaginable. Like they seem incredibly appealing. Beautiful, even. Essential. Life-affirming. How could something be evil, when it feels so good?
For a long time I’ve assumed that a large part of the social condemnation of such things was about denial – people who deep down felt the same, but found that too terrifying to ever examine it honestly. So they loudly denounce others, to externalise their discomfort.
While I still think that applies to some degree, the more unsettling thought is that their normal socialisation means they really feel that way. Whereas me, withdrawing & isolating myself for so much of my childhood, resenting my peers and perceiving them as hostile, was never sufficiently indoctrinated into common morality. I responded to the cruelties inflicted on me by assuming that such moral sense was worthless. If it could allow me to be spat upon & kicked at random with no redress, I could do without it.
In doing so, I allowed myself to question everything, untethered by social obligation. To do & think things I knew society would condemn. I assumed I was better. I was above their petty morality. Nothing I wanted could ever be wrong.
The scary part about doing that is that you make yourself utterly alone, psychologically & morally. I don’t feel all the things everyone else seems to. I don’t have the normal compunctions or inhibitions. And I don’t think that’s something I can change now. Like I said, I broke my socialisation during a key developmental phase. I don’t think I can reason my way into the outrage, the moral disgust that everyone else feels about people like me. I can understand it, rationally. But I can’t feel it. I can’t be part of the psychological community, the tribe. I can pretend, but that’s all any relationship I form is. A pretence. Pretending I’m normal and morally sane and not everything that scares and repulses you.
Which is why I feel so alone. I’m in a tribe of one. The only people who can relate are those who’re similarly twisted. And no solidarity or viable community is possible between us. That’s kind of the point – when you step outside the bounds of social morality, you cast off the things needed for a community to function. There’s no trust – we’re as much a threat to each other as we are to society.
I’ve done this to myself. And I don’t think I can undo it. I can’t repent the things I’ve honestly thought and felt, that I still deeply feel. I’ve stepped outside conventional morality, looked past it. I can’t believe it’s narrative in the same way, though I can still mimic its customs.
I’ve isolated myself psychologically, and it’s miserable, and I can’t undo it. So it would probably be better if I ceased to exist. If I were put out of my misery, like a rabid dog. But death terrifies me. So it’s a choice between misery and that fear. And I guess I’ll keep choosing misery until something scarier comes along to force my hand.