All the good that came your way has always been just like that, one way. Being the monster you are has it's quirks. Most important, you are free, without walls, without fences, with nothing else but your life and everything you make of it. There is nothing outside you and what you can create out of your own universe.
It does come with a price though. Ever tormented, you will never have peace. They ask you why can't you be relaxed. Relaxation, although simpler to attain then peace itself is actually quite rare. Because there will be no relaxation without peace. It can turn out the other way around, but no peace means no rest, no joy, no reason. And there are times, fewer or more, depending on latest happenings, when being a monster is not reason enough.
Unholy mission as it is, being a monster does not fill every inch of you. There's always a hole. A crack in the armor, creeping up on you, making itself larger as chipped glass turning slowly into broken glass and then into sand and oblivion. All that awaits you is oblivion. May it be in the deepest corners of hell where you belong or above where there is no real, definite place for you.
No peace and no place equals an unrest far more tormenting then the torture you give to others. This is exactly the reservoir of your search. Constantly trying to create torture heavier than your own, by making yourself feel a bit better, while making others feel a lot worse. Yet nothing can surpass your pain. Peace is the only thing you will never get, no matter how close you feel you've come to it. And without peace you will never really be.
Stop!
