dannyfrankszzz
Member
I have a guilty conscience because I think terrible thoughts. For the most part, I can repress these and hide them away but theyre always lurking in my consciousness. I feel guilty because if I do not express these thoughts to people, then I am not being honest. If I express these thoughts, then I am immediately considered a terrible person. I find any sort of expression very difficult to translate across. A consequent result of this contradiction is my mind slips into despair at the impossibility of being able to find a satisfactory resolution to this.
My mind then wanders into a debate about predetermination; how can I be guilty about impulses and thoughts if I am thinking these things as a result of genetic predetermination, then surely this absolves me of guilt. Whilst my mind whirrs in this pattern, the usual conclusion that I reach is a shrug of the shoulders and an unconscious acceptance of my own innate, unrelenting, stubborn will to live as the fundamental driving force stopping me from committing suicide at the despair of my predicament.
Whilst I understand the nature of my own problem, my own instincts also tell me that other people are affected by these things to varying degrees.
I always feel that I need to bury this stuff and move on with my life but I just cant seem to get over these problems. I live in perpetual fear of being found out of exposing my weaknesses. I feel that my entire existence is based on maintaining the illusion of sanity that is acceptable to my fellow man in spite of the fact that my own nature is despicable.
I would even go so far as to say that almost my every waking thought has to be controlled and tamed so as to appear acceptable. If I hold a knife, the instinctive reflex to stab someone with it occurs to me. I get nervous holding a knife in the kitchen when people are around me.
I need to confess to achieve a redemption; alas, there is no redemption except death. I sometimes wonder if the Catholic faith might help me here a religion designed to try and deal with the guilt part but then many would argue that free will must always exist.
I live a very narrow existence where I feel I have some control over things around me and over myself; at least that is passable although many would say that my existence is a living death.
Why cant it be easy? Why does there have to be perpetual conflict and strife? Living is a kind of hell. I think it takes a strong will to control this state.
My mind then wanders into a debate about predetermination; how can I be guilty about impulses and thoughts if I am thinking these things as a result of genetic predetermination, then surely this absolves me of guilt. Whilst my mind whirrs in this pattern, the usual conclusion that I reach is a shrug of the shoulders and an unconscious acceptance of my own innate, unrelenting, stubborn will to live as the fundamental driving force stopping me from committing suicide at the despair of my predicament.
Whilst I understand the nature of my own problem, my own instincts also tell me that other people are affected by these things to varying degrees.
I always feel that I need to bury this stuff and move on with my life but I just cant seem to get over these problems. I live in perpetual fear of being found out of exposing my weaknesses. I feel that my entire existence is based on maintaining the illusion of sanity that is acceptable to my fellow man in spite of the fact that my own nature is despicable.
I would even go so far as to say that almost my every waking thought has to be controlled and tamed so as to appear acceptable. If I hold a knife, the instinctive reflex to stab someone with it occurs to me. I get nervous holding a knife in the kitchen when people are around me.
I need to confess to achieve a redemption; alas, there is no redemption except death. I sometimes wonder if the Catholic faith might help me here a religion designed to try and deal with the guilt part but then many would argue that free will must always exist.
I live a very narrow existence where I feel I have some control over things around me and over myself; at least that is passable although many would say that my existence is a living death.
Why cant it be easy? Why does there have to be perpetual conflict and strife? Living is a kind of hell. I think it takes a strong will to control this state.