The Machine Inside

We all do something that is completely unlike us at some point in time.

Each word was written in a rage.  Each syllable  stemmed from an insatiable fire inside me.  My imagination had certainly gotten the better of me.  But after what I'd seen, I suppose this was at least half-way warranted.

I have never spoken to someone so harshly in my life.  I had never imagined such cruelty could come from my own hand.  The sense of power was maddening as I typed away anything and everything, uncensored.

When it was done, I looked it over.  The fire inside was satisfied, and steel gears were clanking away in my heart.

I need closure.

I justified myself over and over, and finally hit the 'send' button.

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I feel so filthy.  So unclean.  So guilty. 

But it had to be done, right?

Yes, it had to be done.  There was no other way.  Things are better this way. 

 

I hope God is graceful enough to forgive me.  I destroyed His gift.  I threw it in the dirt and stepped on it. 

 

It is better if you hate me.

The End

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