I started to notice that something was wrong with me when I couldn't fall in love. It seems strange, right? I never noticed before. I could be cold, calculating and painfully logical in situations where I should have been kind, compassionate and empathetic. I never noticed something was wrong with me when I pushed away more people than I pulled in. I never noticed the reason they hated me. I just thought that I was better, and that they could never understand me because I was just so damned special. And they? They were weak. They were nothing to me. Only a select few meant something to me back then, and I would never give an emotional reason as to why. But when I saw the few people that were close to me falling in love and being happier than they ever had been, I realized that something in me was… off. And broken. Some people willingly choose not to love. And that's not bad. But… I wanted to love. So badly and so desperately. But I just couldn't. No matter how hard I tried, I failed and felt nothing. I was clueless and lost and I wanted to know why so badly that I let it consume me. I didn't want to imagine that I could be anything like a sociopath. Not me, the great detective and champion of the people. But the more I thought about it, the more it made sense. I never have been or will be a fully-fledged sociopath but I still have the tendencies. Love is hard and confusing. Being social is nerve wreaking and adds to my egocentrism. And for the longest time, I never knew why.
But now I know. It was because of her. What she tried to make me. The way she tried to break me. I was only a child. And in a way, she won. Because I act like I'm all that, but in reality, I hate myself more than I can even begin to describe. She won that battle. But she won't win the war. Not yet. I know this, because I believe I have started to fall in love.
I won. I beat my devil. At least for now. At one time, I had all but lost. I tried to kill myself twice when I was fifteen. And then when I was nineteen, I pushed everyone away, and I had my wild love affair with heroin. I was willing to submit then. To give up. I felt I had all but lost. But then I realized something. Every time I was willing to give up and die, someone else reached out and grabbed my hand. My brother was there all three times. There was another time, while I was in rehab, that I begged him to kill me. To get it over with. To free me. I said if he loved me he would do it. But he just hugged me. And he told me that because he loves me, he wouldn't do it. That he would walk me through every day step by step. That he believes in me. And he just hugged me. Until I fell asleep. So really, he saved my life four times. I owe him a lot. But I guess all younger brothers owe their big brothers something, don't they?
Despite the way I still feel, and the fact I think I would be better off if I died, I think I'm starting to win. My demon is dead. She won't come back. My other demon died in rehab. And now… it's the strangest thing, but after being tortured for a month… I feel invincible. I feel like I can make a change. I feel like I've really won, because now I know I can love. I know that for sure now. Because I think of her. Carter. Every second of every day I think about her. And I know… I know that she believes in me. I think about Cas too. I'm too weird to say it, but I think of him as my son. I don't know how to say it, but I think he knows. Love feels good. It makes my face wet.
And I think I like that.