I’m watching Christopher Hitchens, after he got cancer.  I’m thinking, I could become an atheist.  You love The Secret, but everyone mocks you for its supposed absurdity, so you just keep it a secret.

God doesn’t need me to believe in him, in the same vein that I know I exist, and can never not know that.  I don’t need to believe in myself, other than an awareness of my innate potential as a consciousness being.

Len’s in bed, surprise surprise, so I feel like writing again.  Of course, we’re hoping she hasn’t got cancer, and we’re all hoping my Nan’s going to live until she’s a hundred.  My Granddad died, and I didn’t feel anything.  I admired the man.  He was the closest thing I had to a male role model, apart from Player Steve who taught me how to laugh loudly and not give a shit.  Things change.

My Nan’s death would hit me harder than Granddad’s.  I’ve always relied on Nan, the same way I rely on Mum, and I don’t know how to reach deeper than that, or find something more poignant to express about the matter.

The Voices were saying I’m the most boring man on the planet.  Perhaps I am.  They then proceeded to call me a killer, and I had to agree.  Without Mum, Nan, or Len, would I consider killing?

I went to my psychiatric center and told them I felt like killing someone.  They put me in a room with a bright spark who just kept jamming his index finger into the table.  They should have sectioned me.  I needed it.  I followed that up by voluntarily agreeing to be in hospital.  I was there a year.

Human life is precious.  It is.  I have thought about using lethal force, more than a few times.  I’d like to say I’m harmless.  I am.  Off meds I feel prepared to kill.  I think I’ll live my life in a peaceful and harmonious state.  I do have a killer instinct.  I’m sure we all do.  Perhaps noticing that is the first step towards striving to be truly good.

I’m not even sure I could punch someone, let alone use lethal force.  I know all too well how to use lethal force.  I’ve studied.  I also know all too well that my flight reaction is so much more developed than my fight reaction.  I’ve seen that play out, in me.

I’ve got Len back.  She’s turned down an offer of a shared flat.  I get to keep her just that little bit longer.  I feel full, knowing she’s in bed in the other room.  I feel a fullness of experience.

Regardless of what happens, I will always feel indebted to her.  She could dump me now.  I couldn’t dump her.  That gives me my vulnerability back.  I’m gambling it all.  I guess that’s a very human place to find oneself in.

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