is the weapon used against me my own heart? the deepest betrayal is self-betrayal. the point of the dagger thrust into my back was placed there by my own hand. I have no one else to blame. I am the villain in this tale, the renegade with no remorse for being a turncoat. if it were possible for me to point the finger at someone else, to make wild-eyed accusations against another, to shamelessly scream in somebody's face, ah-ha, you are the one! don't you think I would do it? of course I would. remember, I am the villain in this tale, the renegade with no remorse for being a turncoat. humans, even the worst/best of humans, lack the depth of deviance that is innate with monsters. at birth we are capable of shredding our own mother's breast to keep our siblings from benefiting of its nourishment. we grab the weakest from among ourselves and strangle them for a meal, and we refuse to share this freshly killed meat with our partners in the crime of murder. barbarians became drunk with the wine they drank from the skulls of their enemies. monsters become drunk with the wine we drink from the skulls of our friends. to be my own betrayer should be no great surprise to me. two irreconcilable natures, two opposing forces, the monster versus the human, rail against each other within my flesh. this rage and self-loathing has turned its fury upon my mind. yes, the weapon used against me is my own heart.