A curious peace has fallen over me of late, in spite of my self-propelled, self-contained darkness. I cannot say I am happy, but I have come to accept myself.
I am a monster.
I am a monstrous, vile and deeply flawed human being. I am selfish and evil in the worst way. If thinking evil thoughts were a crime, I would be hanged. I have done terrible things and hurt people I love. I have crossed dark lines and committed acts so foul as to be unspeakable. I deserve to be alone in darkness forever.
And I accept that.
I am what I am. I am a hideous monster, and I accept it, and strangely, it has brought me an odd tranquility. I cannot say I am happy. But looking in the mirror no longer horrifies me. I cannot explain it, except to say that I accept what I am.
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