15 October, Wednesday

 

2:30 h Bitterness. That is the word which defines the mood which rules my life. It is overwhelming.

I must write

Writing can lead me to healing

I hate my mother. She has been away for three months. I wouldn’t want her to come back, ever. At the same time, those feelings make me feel bad. She has suffered because she knows how badly she hurt me, she knows how badly she hurt Veronica —my kid sister. Rest in peace.

My mother could not have possibly avoid doing that.

 

Fiction writing. Tales, a novel

Narcissism. Cowardliness. Mental weakness. Vital powerlessness. Those should be the elements which I must describe in the narrative, traits who antagonists of the main character exhibit and have become their motivation to attack him.

 

Antagonists and their unescapable fate

My mother and my sister Yolanda keep silent. There’s a kind of hush

Antagonists, foes, enemies, are facing destruction. They are not going to survive.

My father was a malignant narcissist, a psychopath. He perceived in himself extreme filth. Because of that, he suffered an excruciating psychic pain and projected that dirt in other people. He did that to me.

People with strong destructive tendencies felt powerfully attracted to him. He was deeply incestuous, nechrophiliac and narcissistic. Kind of monster.

I felt repelled by him

My father tortured me. He wanted me to commit suicide. He did not succeed and by failing, he destroyed himself. Other antagonists —malignant narcissists— and people who hurt me badly, follow my father’s path. They are dead already. Those who are still alive, want to die. Quit living means the end of suffering, there is no other way to escape; except for psychosis.

 

Truth

Most people are unable to face, accept truth. Many people find truth terrifying.

Denial is a defense mechanism.

My mother’s childhood and adolescence were a nightmare, to say the least. Her parents were cruel, ruthless torturers. Being a teenager, she left. Being a young woman —shortly after getting married— she met her parents and siblings and kept in contact with them. That destroyed all probability to heal her very deteriorated mental health.

My father blamed his father for his mother’s early death. He said that his father was cruel, beat him ruthlessly, like the sadist he was. I couldn’t ever know if that is true, but I do know that my father had an incestuous character. He would have wanted to have sexual intercourse with his mother, who died when he was 13 or 14 years old. Because of that, he was not able to satisfy his incestuous sexual desire. That also could be the reason why he hated his father, for he had sexual intercourse with that woman; hundreds of times.

My parent’s had four children. A son (me) and three daughters, which he considered his harem.

 

Sadness

I feel so sad. Suddenly I realize that I have hurt my mother badly, for a very long time.

I’ve lived hating my father for no less than 35 years, maybe more. It has been right to hate him, or at least it was right at the beginning and for a number of years, because that gave me the mental strength (determination) and the energy to avoid becoming a man like him, although I was not aware of that; such motivation was unconscious.

I succeed. I am not like him and will never be a repulsive malignant narcissist, nor sexually depraved, incestuous, nechrophiliac being whose image projects his absolute decomposition; impossible to revert, which involves a repulsive appearance.

Because of that, I beat that monster, I do not need hatred anymore. I cannot forgive him.

The aim must be to get rid of hatred. Feel nothing, nothing that is not indifference.