Pain is overrated. Rage is overused. Somehow, “painful rage” is not the accurate phrase for what I’m feeling… for what I’m visualizing. My obsession has turned from reconciliation… to retribution. My focus has changed to another person… to a single-celled soulless prokaryote, a parasite – a virus – who must be purged from the gene pool with a simple act of extermination.
Romance is not the motivation here, but disgust, a misanthropy towards a certain excuse for a person who represents a monstrosity, a man possessed, and must face what lies beyond life. Death, perhaps, has its own continuity. It begins with suffering. It begins with a realization of humanity not in emotion, but in nerves, in pain receptors… in blood. The essence of our humanity, but what makes us so inhuman after all. Revenge, in a way, is a good substitute for justice.
When you hurt somebody, you know… you have to anticipate pain, not of guilt or of turmoil but of pain… excruciating pain. A reminder that the pain caused by force and duress is not resolved or repaid through inaction, but through force and duress… amplified. A bruise will have to be repaid with blood, and a broken heart will have to be repaid with a broken bone. The flogging of the spirit is repaid with the flogging of the body; we commensurate a tortured soul by torturing a body.
It makes perfect sense; when you do not act like a human being, you have to be reminded of it…