No, this ain't just some bragging once more about how evil I am, nor is it a fictional story.
I can't help being what I am. I never minded being that. I don't think I have the Evil Stare, and if I did I'd use it against enemies only. Surely not people who have done me no harm or whom I hold dear.
I'm the ultimate loner, antisocial you may say and that's fair to say, and I'm terribly inept at social interaction.
All this usually doesn't matter in my daily life, where all human interaction is usually confined to Facebook. (Writing is so much easier than talking.) And under normal circumstances I might even take pride in people being shocked or even scared by what I am. But this one time it was just horrible, it was the most horrible thing ever, and my very first reaction was denial - this wasn't about me. But by now I do know well that it was.
That Tuesday evening, returning from Amsterdam, was so very weird. Rather, the last leg of it was, from Dusseldorf, when it was announced the stop in Bonn would be omitted because of some paramedic mission at the platform, and so I had to get off in Cologne and take another train to Bonn from there.
When inquiring about this at an info desk, one of the two guys in attendance pointed at the pentagram patch on my battle jacket and said, "Do you know this is the sign of Baphomet?" Or rather, 'Baphomé', with the t silent and emphasis on the last syllable, was how he pronounced it. I showed him the letters SATAN tattooed on my left, inner forearm, and he said triumphantly, "Oh, you do know Baphomé!"
Confused by this I wandered off to double-check the info given by the other guy, concerning my next train. But after walking just ten or twenty yards or so I was addressed by another guy who also pointed out my pentagram, gave the sign of the horns and announced that he was Russian and that he was very interested in this. I couldn't be bothered at the time though as I'd already been traveling four or five hours and excused myself to take care of my train, which he politely accepted.
This was already unusual, but all fine so far. It was a third incident that was to occur later on the train which was so awful. It was so absolutely improbable too, almost impossible, therefore my denial - this couldn't be happening. Thus staring at my hands, I must be dreaming this.
Nothing was said and nobody was physically harmed, but at least one person was wounded in other ways and by her own fault, and that person was me. I hope it was me only. And more than this can't ever be said about the incident in this place.
Save to say that things had been quite out of whack for three months already, and I couldn't quite tell if out of whack in a good or bad way. Then about ten days ago everything went down the crapper and I was devastated, thus fleeing to Amsterdam.
And by now it's completely insane and has to be absolute rock bottom. There's no one else to blame. There's no possible help but from my Master and our Infernal Father.
I hoped to have a good time on Halloween, but instead I'll have to pay for this.
I know excuses are lame, but can you imagine how terribly alone I am? *
To whom it concerns: I'm so very sorry for any nuisance I may have caused.
* [EDIT: This is to say, how terribly alone I've always been in my life, and it was meant to explain (or rather, to lamely excuse) my social ineptitude. I thought this was clear but it was pointed out to me by a dorky stalker that it wasn't. And yes, I may say dorky stalker because I'm socially inept and about as sensitive as the armor cladding on a tank.]
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