The Well

If I go to the well frequently enough, I must dip my bucket further into the shaft to alleviate my thirst.  This is my relationship with the macabre.  I am convinced that the overwhelming majority of psychopaths have bloodlust even if they may not act on them – and, hopefully, they do not.  I am no different.  However, I do not fear crossing the line into battery or worse.  I fear being paralyzed by these unwanted and intrusive thoughts.  In order to quiet my mind – and engage in a bit of pleasure seeking behavior – I seek out the macabre at every chance that I can.  Am I doing more damage than good, however?

I do not know the answer to this.  It is human nature to fantasize about that which we cannot have.  Women in loveless relationships often turn to erotica as a means of escaping reality.  The washed up athlete may immerse themselves in sports displayed on television.  The psychopath surrounds herself in the macabre, fantasizing about those things she cannot do.  There is a perverse pleasure for me in seeing violence.  It is partly sexual and partly sensual.  I do know that I cannot cross the boundary, though.  It is one thing to see these things with my eyes; it is another to make realities with my hands.

I quickly become numb to the stimulation, however.  Every time I go to the well, I must go deeper.  I’d be lying if I said that this didn’t concern me.  I want to hold on to my humanity.  I want to believe that I simply reside on another spot in the continuum that defines the human condition.  I don’t want to admit that I am so fundamentally different from those neurotypicals around me.

I’ve asked my therapist many times whether I am going down a path that I can’t return from.  She reiterates the nature of choice.  If surrounding myself in the macabre satisfies me and ensures that I will never cross the line, then what does it truly matter?  I do know that I’ve been conditioned by society to frown upon my behaviors, however – even if they are solely in my mind.  Is the absence of evil in a person whose mind is evil an act of good?  This is a question that will ponder for many years to come, but in the meantime, I must dig deeper.  I must be satisfied, if only briefly.

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