The Church Boy Gone Wild

I had started developing a reputation, and not in a good way. It wasn’t something I’d ever planned, but as the whispers began to spread, I felt a surge of power course through me. The fear of GOD brought most people feelings of guilt after our sexual encounters, and my name started popping up in church confessions all across the tri-state area. I never expected to be the subject of so many hushed conversations and scandalous tales, but there I was. I started getting pulled to the side by church elders, their eyes filled with curiosity and judgment. They offered false counsel in exchange for an inside look into how I operated my machine. It was a sickening and twisted form of voyeurism, but I couldn’t help but feel a perverse satisfaction knowing I held power over them too. I never considered myself the most attractive guy, but my reputation had little to do with my looks. Listening back to recordings of that era proved to me that it wasn’t about the talent either. Whether people thought I was insanely confident or just insane, they were attracted to me, and I took advantage of this at every opportunity. I didn’t start drinking until my 20s, so I hadn’t the excuse that I was drunk. It wasn’t the booze that led me down this path; it was something deeper, something darker. I spent years watching people more socially accepted in my environment steal bits and pieces of my personality like Robin Williams stealing a joke from an unknown comic. But nobody ever cut me a check for my material. So I allowed my ego to control me, and turn me into someone who lived to consume power. Being someone who people gravitated toward, the ability to talk someone naked became my dopamine. With every conquest, I felt an adrenaline rush, a chemical high that could never be matched by any drug. My words were like a finely tuned instrument, playing the sweetest melodies that drew people to me, tearing down their walls and leaving them vulnerable. In those moments, I felt invincible. I was the puppet master, pulling the strings and manipulating those around me to feed my ego. The power I wielded was intoxicating, and I couldn’t get enough. But deep down, beneath the twisted layers of desire and manipulation, there was a part of me that knew it was wrong. A part of me that longed for something more, something real.

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