June 17, 2015
When you have already decided that you are The Worst Human, you can either choose to convince yourself otherwise, telling yourself over and over again that the things you did, the things you feel, aren’t that bad, that others have done worse, thought worse, that there is someone out there, somewhere, who is worse than you. Or you can indulge in it. Fall headfirst into the label and reclaim it for all that it is. You can use it to empower yourself. When all else goes to shit, you need to change your world view, change your actions, adapt to the new mess that is your life.
There is one thing that you can’t do. You can’t do anything to change it. You are already The Worst Human; the things you’ve done dictate that beyond all repair.
I’m not sure how this came to pass. He seems to have wormed his way into my head. And perhaps the worst part of all of this is how little remorse I feel, relatively. How my insides lurch whenever I get a new assignment, or how I feel such intense relief whenever he tells me I’ve done well, so much that the reassurance actually brings physical tears to my eyes sometimes. That feeling, I swear, it’s more powerful than any magic, more addictive than any drug.
I know at this point -- and I will not admit this to anyone, least of all him, and it is hard enough putting it in writing -- that I will do anything he tells me to do. And I will do it gladly and with such force of will that my own sickening loyalty makes me want to just fall down dead and wait for him to revive me.
