A friend called the other day, confiding in me some very deep thoughts. I thought I would share them with you, point blank, and in the first person. Here is his voice…
A soul is born with certain, shall we say, tendencies. Some good, some bad, but it behooves us to know which way our inner man leans. Myself, I lean toward dark and violent. That’s all I was exposed to growing up. Love, acceptance, belonging, and positive thoughts were not part of my environment. My sails are now set, with this nurture of darkness, to be driven on seas were men ought not find themselves. My struggle forever set to battle not against ordinary tendencies, but against hugely deviant and depraved paths.
In my adventures I’ve come across souls such as myself, they brought me huge pleasure as I saw the wake they made through their blackened seas. I conferred with one, telling him how I admired the fear he inspired in any crowd. He looked at me with forlorn eyes, “I wish to be like you” he confided. Tired of being feared, tired of being constrained by the course his sails set him on, he wished to be compassionate and feel, to engage normally with strangers and innocents. But, he said, telling me the way to path I wished, “if you wish to be like me, you only need touch the hate in your heart. You can be the baddest, if you hate.” At that time, I denied and refused my hate, my whole being swallowed up in the religious pretense of love. I knew what I was destined to be, but I hid it in the grand facade of religion. His words stuck with me. Now, I have a contradiction raging in me. I should be, an abuser, a murderer, a violent and unmerciful man engaged in many other criminal activities. But, I encountered God. I embraced Him out of fear of my path. Still I hold on to his hand, knowing what I can be, what I was supposed to be. Swinging way past center, I find myself soft, and complacent, letting people go when they should be punished and resisted.
This is where I find myself, the hate rising, demanding my attention, telling me to act according to my destiny, but, God stops me, guiding me in a different way. I am so tired of the battle. Tired because people don’t quit, they keep pushing, disrespecting, and teasing, mocking me. The expression, “going postal”, bears relevance. There are persons in society who finally snap. They seem mellow, gentle, placid and weak. Then, they flip the script and kill. Kill many, kill few, but kill nonetheless. Everyone shakes their head in disbelief. How can this happen? I know how this can happen, it happens in me every day. Having not killed, not pillaged, does that make me weaker? Or stronger? Having resisted those impulses and being kind and forgiving, where does that leave me?
This argument is moot at this point. My breaking point is near. I can stand no more insults to my manhood. No more disrespect to my humanity. No more glaring down the nose, daring me to act looks. I’m shoved, and it builds. I’m ripped off and it builds. What they don’t understand is, is, that, I am nothing like how I look, how I have made myself appear. I am evil, violent, malevolent, and disgusting. How much more Lord, will you make me bear before I come apart. I can stand no more. Be prepared you sly cons who think you have me pegged. Something evil this way lurks.