Blinded

When I say that I am not a human, I mean it in the most precise way. I am like a dog in that there are certain things that I simply cannot feel in any great measure. For instance, guilt. I know what guilt is because I can feel it to enough of a degree to be able to recognize when it should be present in myself and when it is present in others. Beyond that, I simply emulate the reactions of guilt that I know are expected of me. But inside, I feel nothing.

Love? Yes, love I can feel to a sickening degree. But this is not the kind of love that plays and poems have failed for so many ages to put into words. Like the dog, I will run out and fetch that stick for you five, ten, a hundred times despite that you kick me and beat me until my ribs are broken. But if this is man's best friend, then man is in a poor state of existence indeed. If this is loyalty, if this is the love of a companion, then I can feel love in the same way that I can feel fear. In this way, I have more human love than most anyone you will ever meet. In this way, love for another is simply that stick, that something, that they bring to you that you desire. Love is little more than fear; yet another self-preservation mechanism that is manipulated, abused, denied, and warped by the human before it is even projected out of the self.

But this is not a real love. If it's the true love you're talking about, the kind that terrifies, destroys, and drives insane...if the love you're talking about is the sort that drives a girl mad, not with longing, but with utter horror when she realizes she's capable of feeling it too, then I've got scores of that love.

It's a strange look that crosses most people's faces when they hear me say this, but it is undeniable that there are two kinds of "love." One kind of love tells you everything will be okay, and the other tells you that you're on your own if things don't turn out okay after all.

Cruelty doesn't even begin to describe the purest form of love. Murder. Complete destruction. Savage hatred that burns to the very deepest portion of a heart no longer there. That's a beginning...

One of these is a path of light, and the other of darkness. Despite whatever pain and insanity it has brought, I chose long ago to follow the darker path. Even seeing the beast that I am now, I have never been able to regret this decision in the slightest.

I can feel nothing but contempt for the light.