GOD JUDGES US BY OUR SCARS

Fiction. Just wanted to do some existential thinking

What you see is a man, but inside I am a monster. Full of rage and fury. I have done bad things. More so evil things. I remember them all and don't regret them. What I am is a killer.I will not hesitate. It's in my nature. Something comes alive in me. An uncontrollable urge to destroy the human body. I have battle scars of my own. My body is a road map of self-destruction and negligence. My outer shell is no concern to me. Collateral damage. There's a story to tell with each of my scars and there are no happy endings... Occasionally, there are calm moments in my life. They're only short periods of time and I struggle with the silence. I enjoy the carnage of violence. It's an unquenchable desire that runs through my veins. Why was I born this way? I stopped asking those questions a long time ago. Maybe then there was hope for me to become civilized...Death will come for me. Eventually. As it does for everyone. Some, as myself, maybe faster than others. If I'm destined to be hellbound so be it. I won't be alone and I'm sure the multitude will exceed more than imagined. But if there is a God and he wants to save my soul to stand judgment before him, I will say these words. "I could not help myself. I am what you made me."