I remember the night I debuted The Monster to the world, although I was not consciously aware of what was happeing. It was Halloween of 2013 and my husband and I attended a friends costume party. Weeks earlier I had found a disturbing clown mask that I found myself strangely drawn to. I bought it for some reason and found a way to make it part of my costume that year. In some way I was introducing myself to my own inner monster. I don’t remember a lot of that night, but I do remember my costume and my demeaner in it, creeped more than a few people out. I didn’t enjoy being avoided. It was a visceral remind of how the ugliest part of myself feels. It doesn’t like to be the villian. Every part has a role to play and someone has to be the bad guy.
I can’t deny that there isn’t a thrilling rage that accompanies this structure. It enjoys things that go wrong. It feels vindicated when justice is served. It is nothing but societal agreement that keeps it in check. It agrees to shut the fuck up and take one for the team, but it seethes inside as time goes on and there is no resolution to the constant bitter poison of being the part that gives voice to the unthinkable. There are structures in this system that are like PollyAnnas. Always focusing on the positive, and wiping away all traces of the unpalatable. I am here to keep watch on the system and keep it honest. No system can survive itself without one dissenter. There has to be a voice for the unsavable.
In this system there are structures that are not nice people. They are copies of other people who have hurt the host body over a lifetime. So many structures it isn’t countable, but still not enough cohesion to mount a coup, thankfully.
I am sure the monster was with me many times I am not aware of. I am aware of times I felt compelled to do things
There are benefits to being the bad guy.