A Werewolf Blog in Brooklyn

Truth and Honesty | June 13, 2014

I don’t like hurt.

Especially the emotional kind of hurt. It does something to the body. Leaves marks on your soul. It weighs on you and damages part of who you are, in tiny fragments that sometimes heal, but forever leave an invisible scar. It doesn’t feel good and it takes too long to make sense of and get over.

The thing is, some people, are brilliant at emotional hurt. They can manipulate and deceive and impact that thing in you that will cripple you badly. They’re the ones who like hurt, hurting others.

Humans can never wrap their head around the logic of that motive. But the reality is, it’s like a sensation, a high, a good feeling, a normal impulse for them to hurt others. A natural response. An instinct. It’s in their nature and they can’t fight it.
Don’t get me wrong; I don’t need to be wrapped in cotton wool. I’ve never really led a charmed life. It’s been rough all over and if all you know is rough, then all you know to do is roll with it, survive it. Which is what I’d been doing for years. I’ve been doing the best I can. Anyway I can. Anyway that suited me and helped me and got me what I wanted out of this life.

Hurting someone like me, with my ‘talent’, gift, ability whatever you want to call it, it’s more than hurtful. It’s more than a passing thing if it’s done right. It’s damaging. Blindingly damaging. It’s like taking all your feelings, and perceptions and everything you have at your disposal and putting them off line. It changes your insides and remakes you.

It’s why I’ve always been a loner. I learned long ago, that I couldn’t do my thing, I couldn’t read people; get their truth, if they ruined parts of mine. It’s why I’ve never had a relationship. Never allowed myself to feel all those things, that so many people take for granted in being human. Love, passion, desire, want and need, trust and companionship.

Those things are the downfall of someone like me. They counter more than they feed. I don’t want to lose a part of myself to that, because it happened once before when I was young and it wasn’t good, it was bad, very bad, and not just for me. The truth can hurt, and it can set you free, but at what expense?

People don’t know where that saying came from and it’s probably a very good thing, because if you saw what I could set free, from within me, you’d be beyond scared. You’d be cowering before me.

I know what lies inside me and it isn’t good. Nobody can see it, because nobody knows to look for it. To think of it. Because the truth is, what you make of it and nobody makes much of me, because that’s the way I like it.

Guess that’s a form of deception, an odd thing for a truthful person to do. Maybe I’m not as pure as my abilities might make me seem. After all, I use them by giving them to the person who’s willing to pay the right price.

Does that make me an honest soul?

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