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Should you go on a rampage? – Part 2: Motivation & Hypocrisy

What need is it that you seek to fulfill by going on a rampage? I think, it is just one fucking big scream of something that needs to be heard. Something that is never said, never acknowledged.

You may talk to an acquaintance and tell him that you have weird thoughts. He will give you some superficial tips and say I hope it will be alright! You will feel obliged to say Yeah, thanks. And there it was, your little window of opportunity to open up. And you did so, meekly. You only hinted at what you are really thinking. And then the conversation is over and you are supposed to work.

These thoughts, they are dangerous to society. People do not want you to have them. Ironically, by keeping them in, they only grow.

Let us have a few honest words.

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Final letter to my mother

In the course of trying to become more honest, I figured I would send messages to all people I ever knew, telling them what I really thought of them. Guilt and shame overwhelmed me during the course of that endeavor. I insulted girls who had hurt me, making the bill even. I told my false friends that I despised them. I got into trouble for it. It was freeing.

And yet I could not stop. The satisfaction was temporary. And that made one thing obvious to me: It was not those girls I really had a beef with. It was the one woman I saw in all those girls, the one woman I was fighting through the proxy of other girls. The one woman to whom I was really pretending. The one woman whom I really feared to know me.

I showed my true self to all the women who had hurt me. But I realized that there is only one woman who has to know me. Realized that all the other women do not matter. Realized that there is one woman to whom I never dared to show my true self. Never dared to speak up to earnestly. That woman is my mother.

The thought of writing all these important and disgusting things filled me with shame and guilt and fear. It took me three weeks to finally sit down and write this letter. Now, the letter is on its way. Now, my mother must know me, whether she wants to or not.

Now that my mother will know who I am, there is no one I must ever feel ashamed of myself towards again. The next time somebody accuses me of being an asshole, pathetic, not nice or impolite, my mother will not be watching over my shoulder.

I will say: Yes, that is me. And shrug.

The voices in my head always and mercilessly competed, because I had not yet spoken up to the one big source of voices in my head. Had assigned mystical powers to it. To her. My failure to speak my mind robbed me of the courage to think my thoughts. Now I have spoken my mind.

Next time, the mother in my mind will have been put in her place, her looming expectations of me finally fought off with the courage to put myself first, no matter how miserable that self.

Maybe this is too optimistic. Who knows. But I know one thing: I hope to never see her again.

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Should you go on a rampage? – Part 1: My story

I wrote quite a lot about stuff I am no expert in. I began my blog as a copycat of others. But that is okay, I am finding my voice. Today I want to write about something that I can really relate to. About a question that you can ask nobody because you would meet only shame and rejection.

Should you go on a rampage?

And yet it is a profound personal decision that many before you asked. But they could not ask, could they? So they had only themselves to talk to, only the confines of their own mind to reach a silent answer.

Society does not understand your rage and finds superficial answers that satisfy the symbolic mind: Video games, pornography. Ted Bundy even makes fun of that unsophisticated reasoning by using it as an explanation for his own behavior. Very funny to watch.

Of course, Ted Bundy was a psychopath – from my limited knowledge – and his words can mean little to you. A person who does not feel shame or guilt can hardly understand what you are going through.

On the other hand, if you are a psychopath, this article is not for you. I can only superficially relate to you then and thus offer no usable advice.

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How can you keep denying?

Humanity and the good surface.

Makes you wonder. If we are all so good, why is the porn industry so big? Why do I get all those visitors on my page who seek for the most weird shit?

Why are there scat sites, masochists, et cetera? Why do people go on rampages?

Can you really just say that these are the outliers, the abberations, the damaged ones? Is it not much more probable that the civilized and the perverse ones are two faces of the same people?

Can you really keep denying these things as inhuman, no matter all the evidence to the contrary, no matter our love for gory and scary Hollywood movies and war, for metal and screaming and fighting and rough sex? Can you really keep denying that this is part of our nature? Can you really keep up the immaculate surface? Can you really keep distinguishing between the things you accept as human and the things you do not?

How is that logical?

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What is this shit life all about?

Yeah, I know. You are used to better title pictures from me. Police took my computer, so I only have access to some shitty online Photoshop clone. Well so what, shit life deserves a shit picture.

Anyway, question of my fucking life. What is the right way? You supposed to be a worker bee? A Machiavellian? A moral man? A hero and athlete? Or rather a disgusting scoundrel?

Life by now has been a damned series of painful moments interrupted occasionally by the euphoria of understanding and aha moments, moments in which I realized some meaningless bullshit. Moments that seemed like they would change everything. But they never do.

What is the point of this fuck?

Ask somebody for advice and they tell you X or Y. Be happy. Or be social. Or be an asshole. Or a businessman. Seek conflict. Or harmony. Or enlightenment. And when you ask why, they say because of evolutionbecause we are social animalsbecause God saidbecause it is the law, because it just makes sense, because of power, because of desire, because of altruism, because of selfishness, because of money, because of honor, because of loyalty, because of principle, because of Karma.

It is just one big round of circular reasoning, one word brought up to justify another. One sound uttered to bolster a second. But no one to tell you: Why should I?

To be happy? Fulfilled? But what for? Others say the key lies in suffering. Dudes, can you make up your fucking minds?

And in the end, the most honest people – as much as I fucking hate to admit it – are the ones who say: Because I say so. The ones with power who simply force your hand.

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Challenging your inner child: Jesus died for your sins

There is the interpretation of Christianity that, to be with God in heaven, all you need to do is believe that Jesus died for your sins and you will be automatically forgiven. Blind faith is too much to ask from a non-religious man like me, but the whole concept may not be as stupid as it sounds. Let’s dig into it.

I already wrote about stopping hatred and much of what I wrote is true, but I made a mistake that kept me from fully integrating the insight. To distance myself from the guilt of not being perfect, I projected it onto my mother. I deduced that she was the invisible spectator judging all my actions. But that didn’t help me, because it ultimately wasn’t true.

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So you don’t feel like manipulating girls

So. You don’t want to manipulate girls. It’s not fair, after all. They are such powerless creatures that need to be protected. That need to be loved. That need to be respected. They have been oppressed and harassed and offended so many times.

They are victims and need a hero.

You don’t want to manipulate them.

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How to reach perfection

Are you never satisfied? Do you keep working at projects until everybody praises you, yet still feel inadequate and frustrated by the imperfection of your work? Does your restlessness rob your sleep? Does your pedantic obsession over small details piss off everybody around you? Worry not longer, friend. If you follow my 27 Steps to Perfection in 27 Days, you will finally reach perfection.

In your dreams.

Yeah, I know. What would normally follow is a sermon about how unimportant perfection is, written by some unidentified moron on the internet who tries to convince himself that he doesn’t really care so much about perfection. If enough people like his article “How to Stop Being Perfectionistic”, maybe he can believe his own bullshit. It’s the perfect getaway, anyway.

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How to respond warmly with authenticity

I mentioned that I am a narcissist. That means that I am obsessed with the image other people have of me. When I say obsessed, I mean like with a drug. You can abstain from a drug for a long time and be happy; for me, that means to be alone or act in a way that will alienate people quickly. But if I am exposed to the drug, it’s hard to think clearly about it, especially if I haven’t had it in a long time.

For me, that is to get some form of admiration – or rather, being identified with a self-image I like; ironically, even being called an asshole can function that way.

How can I overcome that in order to be authentic and warmly answer an email?

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