(Disclaimer: This story does not make any sense. It is a feeble attempt to make myself write again. Reignite the embers of a lost flame. I have been one lazy soul. I promise it won’t make the least bit of sense nor be interesting. Mark out the typos and highlight them for I promise I will only proofread it once, okay maybe five times.)
“If I’m an angel, paint me with black wings.”
I’ve always wondered if one were to describe me, would they refer to me as a good or evil person? If to ask my friends they would say I am an evil person. Only to justify their opinion on the basis that I have an evil aura. My love for the macabre Deep down, however, to recant the statement, form a conclave & have dubious conversations about how I kill people with kindness and bury them with my smile. The audacity.
Who is the real me though? The dark shadow lingering shadow that everyone assumes to be harmless or that sweet hearted phantom dance partner I keep around intermittently.
I guess in all fairness, my innocence is as fragile as that of a butterfly. Remember those sweet multicolored insects that fly. It’s quite dark when you realize they are known to feed on blood.
As far as I can remember I have always loved the idea of a charred up personality. The idea of being nice hardly even struck me as funny. What if I am naturally evil? Shackled down only by my lack of power. I have to admit I have always been a naturally frail kid, the same applies to myself in adulthood. I wouldn’t exactly describe myself as what you’d call strong. My psyche is a little different though, in pieces but like glass, its brazen sharp in that form.
I’ve never been the bully or the hero in any juncture in my life. In a different life, I would love to be a bully of bullies though, tainted blood does seem to stain a beautiful shade of scarlet I believe. There’s just no flair in innocent, I wouldn’t take any pride in preying on the weak. Struggle does beget a beautiful kick. For now, I’m much satisfied with observing. I love to watch.
“Humans tend to be way interesting from a distance,” I tell myself.
So where were we? Oh, yeah to pass judgment on my being, a choice to cast my soul into the nether of the ibis or the pearly gates of the heavens. I wonder. What would one use to differentiate those of evil nature and pure souls? Religion perhaps, their actions? If it were religion I’m alike to most really, not exhaustive on the parley of belief and neither not one of disbelief. I handsomely have knowledge about the description of sin, I have my qualms when it comes to sins of the heart or should I say the mind. My thoughts are havens and crevices of murky dark waters. On that much, I’m no different from a man who raises a blade to a child. Then again sinning and being evil are purely two different concepts on their own, cousins sure but not entirely ever so in tow.
That leaves actions. As I have mentioned before I see no flare in hurting the innocent, the same cannot be said of the tainted. The catch, however, is I lack the strength. I reckon if I was powerful enough I would undeniably become the true embodiment of evil. To pass judgment as I saw it fit regardless of how warped a perspective I would have on society. I guess you could say I have a god complex. Everything would be judged by my law and not that of other men. Sounds like a dictatorship at his point rather than a democracy.
At this point, these may all seem like the rants of a madman, someone so obsessed with the idea of being what he’s not but has somehow convinced himself he can. The tear between reality and imagination. The overflow of an already super active psyche. I wouldn’t say you are half wrong.
There’s a certain image that comes to mind when I think of all this. It’s a common concept in most cartoons or comedies where a particular individual is tasked with a choice between wrong and right. Ever so often you will notice an angel and a demon on opposite ends of his/her shoulders. Evidently, they are shown to be commanding voices in one’s ear for one to make a choice. Personifications between a good or evil action.
If I was normal I would afford such a luxury, unfortunately, I’m far from it. My evil intentions seem to emanate from inside my head, my angel (my conscience) is dearly clinging by the cloth of my shirt, his competition, in a safe haven the bearer of my thoughts.
I guess as far as descriptions go I’m a villain waiting to happen, a day to turn left instead of right and ignite the madness to full fruition. The craziest part of it all – strangely I can finally be myself. The truth embodiment that was created. Sometimes to stain your halo just isn’t enough, you have to track it through the mad and through crevices of tar and smoke until it’s deeply stained, a hue of the colour of your actual soul.
Then again maybe I’m just watching too much anime. They do say too much tv rots your mind after all. I guess I’m rotten as they come. Catch a sniff, maybe you’ll catch a swift a swift of the sulfur emanating from my soul.