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the boy upstairs
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I think thoughts. Everyone does. But my thoughts are not very nice. Thoughts about hitting people. Putting broken glass in peoples food. Stealing, just for the fun of it. Murder. Gore infested, cruel, even evil, acts. My moral compass can tell me which way to go, but I still like to look at the signs leading to those "other places".
I've never acted on them, not conciously. But a part of me finds these thoughts...delicious. Was I simply raised too strongly pressed in the other direction? Do I secretly hate everyone and wish to do them harm? Would I find the joy I imagine running my car onto the pedestrian filled sidewalk, someday? Am I tempting myself? Or is it coming from somewhere else?
I want so badly to be good. To be filled with my own excellence to bursting. To really make everything better then when I first arrived. I want to love everyone, even those who hate me.
But I hate...and I don't love myself.
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060508
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