Sometimes there are things about yourself that are so apparent that they hit you right in the face, and yet you don’t want to fully accept them because they don’t go with the fictitious image that you have of yourself.
Every story has a super-villain, and this story is no different.
It might sound kind of strange, but the super-villain in my story is a dark corner. Now I don’t know where this dark corner is and how to get to it, but I can always sense its ubiquitous presence. Call it the death star to my universe.
I’ve always imagined this dark corner to be in a room, a really bright one where the yellow walls are resplendent with the warmth of the sunlight. The thing about this dark corner though is that the light completely eludes it. I’ve done my best to try and get the light to visit this corner of the room, but to no avail. Over here there is only space for darkness and negativity. So what is this darkness? Where did it come from?
My thoughts are this darkness. They came from me.
A thought is just a thought, I mean what harm could it do right?
Leave me alone in a room for a day and my thoughts could kill me. The smallest thought culminates into the biggest black hole that sucks the light and warmth out of everything else. Every thought is not merely a thought but an entity that takes control of your mind and ruthlessly gets processed and reprocessed, adding dimensions to itself that never existed in the first place. It doesn’t stop there. It’s like an endless cycle, with the thought becoming stronger with each cycle. In the end, you have a thought that is so powerful and overwhelming that there is no space for any other thoughts. Whatever new thoughts do find their way into this labyrinth of a brain revolve around this diabolical entity, attaching themselves to it and making it stronger.
In the end, the thought no longer remains a thought. It is bestowed with the gift of life, a gift it never should have received. It lives on through my essence as it becomes a part of me, and I find myself looking on helplessly as this irreversible change comes into fruition.
If I had my way, I would find this dark corner and pay it a visit. I would take destruction itself and unleash its fury onto this corner. I would conjure up flames that even pyro-technicians themselves would be afraid to play with, and I would madly giggle to myself as I would watch this dark corner burn to the ground. I want to kill the motherfucker for all the trouble that he has given me.
But I don’t think I’ll ever get my way, and even if I did its too late. If you burn one corner of a room down, then the roof comes down with it.
My super villain completes me. He’s like the joker to my batman. If I get rid of him, then a part of me will burn with him in the flames. His screams will be my screams. I hate my super villain but I find myself wanting him around with me everywhere I go. It’s a paradox, an oxymoron of the most moronic kind, but it’s the truth and that’s all I have to say about that.