Ok, here it goes.

I am not a good person. There, I said it. This will come as a surprise to some of you I know, most of you really, but it's true. 100% absolute right hand on the Bible truth. And what I mean when I say that is that unlike good people, my gut reaction to things is not to be helpful or useful or to think of others. I am not even like normal selfish people whose first instincts are to help and protect themselves. Sure I help people out, give to charity, say the right things at the right times. Heck I even sing in the choir at church and help out with the little ones. But those are all things I've worked at. Those are all habits I created. The me that people will think about when they say "But he was always such a nice boy." is the product of conscious effort over long periods of time. Smile, check. Laugh, check. Small talk, check. Reassuring hand on the shoulder, check. Appropriate amount of almost tears, check, check check.

I wanted to be a good person. Maybe for God, maybe for me. Maybe for her. Maybe D, all of the above. So I tried, I worked, I made good things a habit and dismissing my gut reactions the norm. Well I guess that was always the norm. Replacing them with pleasantry, that was the new part. And it felt good. Being liked, being wanted, being needed felt good. Action and reward, my very own training regimen. The entire world as my Skinner Box. I was living high on dopamine. Life was good.

When did it go gray? Not bad, just gray, flat. It all shimmered, shifted, similar but not the same. I was no longer getting the high, just chasing the high, reminiscing. Did I build up tolerance? I started doing more. More time, more effort, more smiles, more hugs. I got a puppy. Then another puppy. I applied to adopt a child. I signed up for, paid for, dating websites, support groups, hobby groups. Something had changed shape. I no longer fit where I had been. Did I change? Did they?

It was only a matter of time. Research proves that people who want revenge are less happy because of it. But there has been no study on how happiness is affected once a person successfully exacts revenge. My case study would indicate initial high levels of happiness, bordering on euphoria. Afterward is a period of anxiety from the possibility of consequence or retribution. Following that is a short period of profound peace. Afterward my subject, myself, entered into a lower mood state triggered by nostalgia of the initial euphoria. I had found a new high to chase. How long would this one last?

I want to hurt people. There, I said it. Sometimes for good reasons, sometimes for bad reasons, sometimes for no reason. My gut reaction was always to hurt, to hit, to break. Sadist, probably the closest word. The sexual connotation helps with the accuracy. Not that it gets me off, no. But the physical pull of lust is something that most people can understand. A hunger from deep within that can lead to irrational choices. Desire that goes beyond want, into need. At its worst, I felt a visceral need to tear into people's flesh with my bare hands.

There's no going back now. I'm addicted. I wanted it so badly when it was just as an idea, a fantasy. The reality was so, so much better. The feel, the sound, the smells, the taste. Muscles aching, covered in sweat from a job well done. I found where I fit. A jagged hole to fit my jagged edges. My overall mood is higher. Anticipation no longer lowers overall happiness. It's always as good as the first time.

I had a list. I went in order so I could burn the names off instead of crossing them out. Reaching the end of the list made me feel good, a goal accomplished, crossing the finish line of my spiritual 5k. My soul was stronger from this test of endurance, of patience. I had been reborn in the blood, I had been made whole.

I've moved. I can't say where but my Quest had been surprisingly lucrative. I am very much disappeared now but only from the present. I am very much present in the annals of history, unwritten yet they are. We have endless stories of best guesses on cold cases but I am the one that got away. I am the boogeyman Police warn potential victims of. I am the boogeyman Police Chiefs tell their detectives of.

I matter, I made a difference, therefore I am.

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