Why Am I Not A Murderer?

I realize this is a very odd question for me to ask (most of them are), but it’s nonetheless a question that I feel like asking at the moment.

Actually, it’s a question that I have asked myself ever since I was a child.

I was raised a Free Will Baptist. I know that many people who share that religious experience had more negative experiences than mine, but many of mine were detrimental to my health nonetheless. But, despite that religious upbringing, I was still a naturally compassionate person. I didn’t need religion to tell me to be compassionate. Which is what confused me when I was first introduced to the concept.

You see, like I said, I was naturally a compassionate person when I was a child. I really cared about others. I especially cared for those that I felt were “disadvantaged” compared to me. And this is still painfully true today (I’m just more outspoken than I used to be). But when I became introduced to religion, I began to ask myself “Why am I not a murderer? Why am I not a thief?”

This is important because like I said, I was compassionate. I didn’t have a desire to murder or steal. But yet, I began to worry over them. Isn’t it odd to worry about doing what you don’t do and don’t want to do? Well, ladies and gentlemen, that is religion.

I became consumed with evil. It occupied my mind. I thought, day and night, about “horrible” people. The miscreants of society. The unforgivable. My compassionate nature kicked in, and I asked myself “Why am I not as bad as them?”

Religion introduced me to the horrors of the world (that and news). They showed me how bad man can be (and religion told me that was the one who was bad). They gave me an image of the world that the world was a dark, unforgiving place, where monsters ruled, and the only salvation was asking Jesus into your heart.

A little later on, some other circumstances solidified my negative outlook on life. And the only thing that restored my sanity was comedy. My negative outlook and sense of humor are still who I am today, and I don’t think that will ever change (for better or for worse). But I developed a deep sympathy for those who were lost: those who murdered. My heart went out to them deeply. I couldn’t understand it. I didn’t want to hate them, because everyone was hating them. I wanted to understand, and I just couldn’t. So I just felt sad. I just felt helpless. I couldn’t help anyone. I wanted to help the murderer, but everyone else wanted justice. I can’t say that they are wrong. But I’ve often felt in a minority about this subject.

To this day, I still wonder about blessings and curses; peaceful people and violent people; healthy people and unhealthy people. The inequality is really hard to bear. Sure, people make choices. But why do some choose violence? It’s the question that will bug us all for all eternity, no doubt.

But, why am not violent? Why don’t desire to kill? I think this question comes from a “Christ-like” attitude: taking on the sins of others upon myself. Making myself relate to someone who is in desperate need of help. Trying to empathize with the lost, and sympathize with them because that’s what I want to do. I want to love, and help. But sometimes, you lose. You have to cut your losses. And that fact slapped me across the face harder than a domestic abuser.

So around this time, as I said, my natural empathy mixed with shitty religion for a terrible concoction. Fear was introduced in my life, and so was depression (but depression was caused by other factors as well). The religion took over my empathy, and left me with fear. Just the constant fear that at any moment, I would be cast into Hell. God damn that fear… I can probably say that’s the one thing that I wouldn’t wish on anyone. I may say “I hope you get cancer”, or “burn in Hell”, but I don’t think I could ever spitefully say “I hope you fear going to Hell”…(I shudder at those that feel like they are saying that “compassionately”…)

Religion fucked up my life. And I’m still fixing it. I still struggle with accepting sexual feelings, and just having a good life-perspective in general. So much of religion is about hating people (at least the way received the message): hate the sinner, hate the sin, condemn, condemn condemn. And you don’t learn a goddamn thing when you do it. I’m so fucking ignorant because of that attitude, and I am depressed because of it. I am not as smart as I could’ve been, and I can only lament. My sexual pleasure was reduced because of religion. A large percentage of my childhood was spent in fear because of religion. My perspectives regarding women, and relationships, and romance…all fucked up because of religion. And my heart can only lament…

I am confident that this will continue to change, however. It’s just a matter of having it unravel one little step at a time, which I’m eternally grateful for.

I can only hope that God will continue to grace me with positive feelings, and help me experience this life the way He originally intended. I hope to separate my mind away from the old religion, and experience sexual feelings, romance, and a world perspective, that was originally intended.

I still will have many hurdles along the way, many of which I can’t even think of at the moment, but I’m confident that God will continue to send me along this good path.

Now if only He can send me a good woman, some good pussy, and the desire to keep her along for the ride with me, I think I’ll be set…

Insightful.

Emotions.

Horror Character.

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