Many a times, Christian brothers and sisters would come to canvas, using the scriptures as a buttress to their points but rather than consent, I would argue that religion, faith and spirituality are all the colonists ideas to enslave those bereft of the knowledge in self-reliance.
To me, I believed that to do good and act normal does not necessarily mean the total dependence on one divine being and his precepts or laws. I thought, one should be capable and responsible over one's decision.
Unfortunately for me, though I was smart enough to cater for all the physical factors, I considered to be the causes of my being perverse, I could not conquer the monster (EMOTION), himself. Though, I thought I had the power over my reason and decisions but I found it very hard to control majority of my actions.
I often time regretted doing somethings that I shouldn't have done as a 'changed person' that I was. I became helpless emotionally and most times submitted willingly to sexual urge. I was remarried to my former 'lord', MASTURBATION.
Just like a sentenced robber behind the bars, I desired freedom but I was not enough to free myself; not even my self-acclaimed principles. Though, I was physically free to friends and family around but I was the only one that saw the invisible shackles of perverseness around my waist. I couldn't move beyond its limit.
I daily yearned for true freedom but didn't have the knowledge of how it would come.
I became worse than before. A voice in my head -- my addiction to masturbation would always give the commands I never disobeyed for once. I didn't know how I managed to acquire, even more than the number of the sex toys I had earlier thrown away. Now, every opportunity I got alone was always for self-stimulating sex. I would fuck myself as if I was possess -- indeed, I was. After every sexual atrocity, I always ended up in shame before myself. I had even thought of killing myself but it was as easy as taking the camel through a needle's eye.
Sometimes, I wish I could just live like a ghost that does not have flesh/body. I could not even behold my naked body in a mirror without being aroused.
I got so tired of life and became more miserable. What I would love to do, I couldn't; what I hated most now was what I couldn't stop doing. I was degenerating, right from inside, but couldn't help pretending that all was well.
I could not confess or open up to anybody about my problem. I had long run out of my mind, but now gradually running out of my skin. I had got to a point of perplexity. Mine was more than a terminal cancer or another dreadful disease you could ever thought of.
I became expectant of two things, between which one was surer -- death was definitely more certain than freedom or help from any divine being.
