What do you do when you’ve made connecting with others impossible? When you entire existence is a dirty secret. When every positive encounter you have is contaminated by the knowledge of what would happen if they knew the truth. And you can’t ever risk anyone knowing the truth.
I may be a monster, but I’m still human. I still have the same drive to escape isolation, to seek out company and fellow feeling. To feel accepted, related to, understood.
So there’s this constant nagging demand within me to reach out, to somehow breakthrough the wall that separates me from others. But there’s no way of satisfying that need – of bridging that chasm. The people who can relate to the real me are so tiny in number, and they’re all terrible people just like me. I wouldn’t want to talk to anyone like me.
It’s a funny kind of torment I’ve created for myself.