I’m Evil. Big E.

Not someone who does evil. Small e.

There’s a difference.

Matthew 7:17-23: A good tree cannot bear bad fruit, and a bad tree cannot bear good fruit.

Good people (Good) can do bad stuff (evil) but it’s cool bc they are good trees. Bad people (Evil) can do good stuff (good) and it’s meaningless bc they are Evil.

Over simplification? Hey don’t blame lil bad me – tell it to the big guy upstairs!

I replied to a comment on another blog.

I was broadly supportive.

They felt triggered.

I rushed to try and explain I didn’t mean to be nasty or anything. I’m just not good at peopling. I accepted myself as the problem.

That’s me. The nasty, vicious monster. Hey. It’s me, I’m the problem it’s me. Hey. Everybody agree.

Rinse, repeat.

I’m tired. Hold that thought. I’m f**king tired.

Sorry for the profanity. It just gets old always apologizing for being me not being good at expressing myself. Having my parents apologize when my social anxiety gets too bad and I freak out. Feeling bad bc others feel bad bc of me. Seeing myself as wrong when others look for ways to be the victim.

Part of me wants to fully cut myself off from any sense of regret or remorse. I once read a comic book where the female protagonist gets offered the chance to be the herald of the devil/satan/some creature who thought they were the evil one. And they had a cool costume. And I so wanted to be them and accept the position. An unapologetic, card carrying creature of Evil. With a cool costume.

But I’m still apologetic. Meek little Madison. Low grade Evil desperately trying to be good to self-centered people who don’t deserve it. So my fruit is bad.

And I want to shove it down the whiny, self-centered, woe-is-me, I’m-so-triggered-by-your-comment-that-was-slightly-challenging a-holes’ throats so they f**king choke on the poison in my fruit.

And I want a cool costume.

Any demonic entities/ancient Evils need a herald? This lil bad girl monster is up for the job!