Rhetorical question is rhetorical

Why do I worship Death? I have no other gods, no other patrons or symbols that have captured my love the way Death has. I have loved Death for decades, long before my actual brushes with death that left my life waiting in the span of hours, in minutes of actually meeting Death.

Why do I have shrine built to the very idea of death? Skeletons, mini-graveyards filled with actual cemetery dirt (I still have that, Cemetery!) Pictures of graveyards, cards made by friends of movies that deal with death, a locket of the Catholic patron of Death. The comic of the Crow. A rose with an actual muskrat skull buried within the petals. Jewelry of bones. An actual animal skull, in full, on display.

Are people like me born this way or are we made this way?

Why do I worship Death? And why does it comfort me?

This entry was originally posted at http://quirkytizzy.dreamwidth.org/1095966.html
Made this way. And when you've been pushed on that way by others, by tragedies taking place around you and people unloading their malice onto you, over time you know it. You know it very deeply what you are. And there's nothing that can make you become different again. Not therapy, not people trying cheering you up and telling you to look at the brighter side of your life - nothing.
Dark side of life eats its share, takes possession of you.
And once you're on that side, it's like some kind of secret truth you've seen. The shallowness of this world, the ugly face of humans, the cruelty of life and nature...
As it is with truths that you once have seen, you can never forget about them again. Like when you've seen Father Christmas doesn't exist, when you've seen your best friend is a hypocritial bitch, when the teacher that tells you not to smoke smokes himself in his car on the parking lot, when you eavesdrop a conversation between two people who you feel like they treat you unfair and you hear them speaking about turning life into hell for you.

About a natural urge to turn to the dark side I've sometimes thought about myself, but didn't really get smart about it. If it's some "feeling" (mean: knowing) that you got a defect by birth and therefore you act self-destructive, because you feel yourself that something's not the way it is supposed to be with you as and that you enact mother nature's law on yourself by proxy because she can't get to touch you.
I really don't know. Only thing I know is: Sometimes nature is strange - and creatures take way more notice of things than one always assumes...
This makes so much sense to me. Made this way by experiencing the dark sides of life young - a thing you and I have in great common. Once you've seen it, you can't unsee it. So you re-arrange it, make it a part of you, make it something that sits in your life not as a warning, not as a terror, but something names something that is a permanent part of you, for at that point - it is.