In order to become what I want

I must turn into everything I hate

What value, what purpose

Is the reason for my fate

I must become the monster

I killed so long ago

Die the death of the champion

Reincarnate as the foe

You show me the answer

One way to ease the pain

'Pull the trigger' you whisper

So you can win the game.

But NO!

I will not do it

I WONT LET THEM IN

I would rather die the bastard

Than let you win.

Feel it inside

Burning churning

Hide it fake it. Make it bake it.

No one will see no one will know

Until nothing is left in the dough.

Gooey spooey chicken hooey

Spit it out in obnoxious ways. 

No one can see no one can know. 

Yet it's written all over my face

Screaming in silence

Until it's gone. 

--->>>it's time to go to hell<<<--- was the deep automatic script his subconscious mind played on him. 

Things seemed to be going well for this young man.  Yet something had happened, something triggered within, and the seas became stormy. Huge waves crashed up and down within and the ship dragged him back into his darkness. He felt those uncomfortable yet strangely familiar emotions of detachment, aloneness, and vacancy. 

Why did he do this? Why did he go back? The more he tormented over it the more the overwhelming desire to self destruct kicked in. So alone, so empty it was like he had to prove to all how pathetically messed up he really was. A temper tantrum of the soul: LOOK AT ME!

 This wasn't him. Someone else was in control and the demonic puppet master flogged him about, jerking the strings. 

So he gave up. Eff this he thought, I will just do what I want and amazingly the self flagellation stopped.  Now it didn't stop right away, but the shame mellowed and he came to his senses. 

Such clarity! He thought. How I can breathe again...and naturally like Forrest Gump he continued on his path of innocence and wonder until the next trigger may come along....

What a bitch of a way to deal with pain. 

-Curtis Pelling.