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Desperate Cry for Help 010
Last night I tried and failed to feel guilt, to feel shame, to feel remorse, because that's what good people do, right?
All you good people are just gluttons for the emotions of guilt and misery and feeling like life has generally crapped on you and made you its bitch.
But I found it very difficult to even start the whole process. I mean, intellectually I understand the things I should feel guilty about - the seductions, the betrayals, that sort of thing - seem like prime candidates for premium feelings of angst.
Only I just didn't feel bad at all, because I had fun doing all those things and feeling bad about something that makes you feel good is just, plain stupid.
Shame. Shame is a biggie.
Shame and pleasure are often companions, when the pleasure is sufficient.
I think I might have even felt shame once or twice, before I realized that it was other people trying to pull me into being their kind of human being.
What kind of human being is that?
I don't know, and I don't want to know.
The word "good" seems to be an adjective they attach to it.
But my good is their naughty. And THEIR naughty is eating too much chocolate in one sitting...
Even their naughty sucks.
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