Good Nor Evil

(DISCLAIMER: The following is a work of fiction and has no correlation to any real people or events. Any placement of the following content into a nonfiction universe defeats the purpose of creativity. This is not meant to be a glorification or romanticism of mental health issues, nor will I ever do such. If you are struggling with thoughts of hurting yourself or anyone else please call 800-273-8255)

(Content Warning: Allusion to possible violence (Not Graphic), Parental issues, Hospitals and Possible Disassociation Trigger warning)

(Link is what I listened to on repeat while writing)

I used to say that if someone tried to kill me that I would simply let them. My reasoning was simple, I was tired of hurting other people. If I could go out in a selfless act, to choose "be killed" in "kill or be killed", that maybe my sins would be forgiven. I don't mean that of religious sin but of moral sin. Crimes against others committed out of the evil place in my heart. It was my belief that all humans were and always have been inherently evil.

Looking at it now, I realize I truly didn't care if I lived or died. It is fascinating to think about how low you must sink to give up your number one instinct: survival. The problem I soon found with this statement was that I did care if I lived or died, just, probably not in the way that you're thinking. I wanted to die, I did. I sit here and I look back upon that time and I shudder at the emptiness and foolishness of that statement. What I once saw as selfless seems an almost selfish act to me now. I do not say this to demonize those who have been lost to the battle, I say this to merely recognize a fault in my view. Take it as a grain of sand, or a music recommendation, as it is truly pointless to anyone but myself.

It became apparent to me how much I cared while I was in the hospital. When I woke up to sterile, nose burning scents, instead of never waking up at all. You're told that when someone wakes up from something like that, that they are endlessly grateful for another attempt at life. I was not grateful. I was infuriated. I waited weeks in that hospital, lying that I felt saner on the amalgamation of medications they had placed me on. My mother was to blame, truly, in my eyes. The woman who told me I was no good was playing savior to her poor son. The worst part was the nurses who doted on her, lamenting in the fact that they too wished to have such a supportive parent.

I realized then that there was no good nor was there evil. There was only humanity and inhumanity. I found that many nonhumans walked and talked in the same way humans do. We as humans must define everything and thus we created good and evil, the same way we created every other terminology. Inhuman beings look the same, but they cannot think the same. They serve only themselves and not humanity.

The most important lesson I learned? I could say I learned that I did not want to die, because truly I didn't. I simply wanted everyone who hurt me to hurt. I just so happened to be my greatest enemy. Thus I let myself live on, after all what good is a superhero without an enemy. My second greatest enemy? Well shall we leave it with, bodies are surprisingly heavy.