Morals and ethics, the expectations of society, but I can't get a grip on them.
The reality distorts again, keeping me in shambles. I mean, yes, the demented mind grasps the concept of wrongness, but I do not understand why I should feel guilt for the wrongdoings. A monster, abhorrent creature, the demon of chaos. I know something isn't quite right with me, like I'm missing the important piece to a puzzle. A puzzle that society needs to function logically. I wish I could see how the puzzle looks without that missing piece. I've looked everywhere, scouring the depths of my mind attempting to find it, but you can't find something that was never there to begin with. I hate that I am not like the others. The Normals. I wear the façade to fit in with the The Normals, but the mask has lightning streaks that glow with agony, forbidding me from ever truly fitting in with the crowd.
The reality glitches once again, a shooting pain through my head, spreading through my being. Oh god it won't stop. Please stop. Stop stop stop.
No.
The demons are my closest friends. In my nightmares they whip, rape, and cut me, while screaming at me to do their desires. This is fine.
Flashes of demented imagery flood my brain. The girl in chains with blood streaming down her feeble arms. The drugs that suffocate my system, what a blissful dystopia. The corpses, wriggling with maggots, their scent of rot filling my nostrils. I laugh, first in short bursts, then it escalates to a nonstop, full-blown screaming of hurt. Oh how it hurts.
This is wrong -$tãtîç- this is so right. It feels so euphoric, the bleeding, the crying, the pain.
Please no, not aga- g£ïtç|=| -yes. It is good, as long as I have control. As long as I can hurt, like I deserve.
I smile, as the dark claws shred me, leaving me as I deserve.
A disheveled monster.
