I see the blood in the snow. I may not be hungry in the moment, but the prey is just too tempting.
The hardest part in my maturation process is to resist my bloodlust. Like a kid in a candy store, I want it all, even knowing that I’ve already reached my fill. However, like a wolf on the hunt, I realize that I may not know when my next opportunity will come. I don’t know when my next ruinous act will come, but I know that I only need follow the bloodtrail.
I appreciate mayhem. Sometimes, I don’t even need provocation or a tangible reward. The destruction is the reward. When I’ve got bloodlust, I’m at my most dangerous. I’ve ruined relationships, I’ve sent people to the darkest depths of emotional hell, and I’ve poisoned many wells. Sometimes they engendered my wrath and sometimes I simply wanted to see destruction for the sake of it. Like fine art, a well-crafted ruinous act is to be appreciated.
I caught a former acquaintance off guard and destroyed them. They were of little use to me by the time I began my act, but they were useless to anyone by the time I was finished. I knew that I would be severing the friendship. They were pathetic and worthless and an emotional drain. He had done much for me and given me many services that I could have not gotten from others. When I had a procedure, related to my transgender condition, done, he took me many miles to get it done and took care of me during the frustrating time that I was unable to tend to myself. We engaged in many activities and it was pleasant at one time to be around him. Eventually, his baggage became too much. I could have just left, but instead a saw an outlet for my bloodlust and latent desires for destruction. He now wishes that he never crossed paths with me.
I would love to paint some picture where I ruined his employment and his living quarters. I would have enjoyed turning his family against him and his other friends. However, sometimes the best destruction comes from more subtle means. To me, it didn’t matter, I simply wanted to harm – something. The manner in which I did it did not matter. In his case, it merely amounted to abandoning him, without warning, at his lowest point and watching his self-imposed asylum come crashing down around him. He was completely alone and destitute and no longer had anyone to help guide him through that chapter of his life. I made the separation as painful as possible and I twisted the knife on the way out. I know that he has not recovered and I take great joy in that.
Other times the bloodlust needs to be satisfied in more dramatic fashion. It could be something as mundane as getting someone fired for the slightest of incompetence or attempting to ruin entire companies through careful, plague-bearing strikes, the temporary need for destruction and mayhem must be satisfied. As I look forward toward how I am going to become a more pro-social person, I realize that my bloodlust will be the biggest hinderance. Like a person on a diet, I will look longingly at the actions I could be committing and realizing that I simply cannot do them. How can I live when there is a part of me that cannot be satisfied?
I may not mean bloodlust in the literal sense of killing and assaulting, but I do mean that there is an insatiable desire to cause havoc. I act very rarely on it as I realize that I have a balance to strike between trusted savant and persona non grata, but it is always there. The greatest hurdle in my maturation will be to tame these urges and to leave them to the realms of my mind rather than my hands and voice. I will always smell the blood, but I need to realize that I need not feed when I am forever full from a lifetime of feasting.