Can you still be human when you’ve purposefully amputated your capacity to love? When you’ve decided to never feel another goddamn thing again, and there is nothing in your heart but dark emptiness?

When flesh, when lust, becomes only yet another material object to consume, instead of being part and parcel of a sacred emotion?

I didn’t think you could transform into something monstrous by sheer inertia, but I guess I was wrong.

The feelings still come, but they die stillborn as soon as it comes to me.

It’s almost reflex now.

I can probably stand this numbness for a few years or so, but certainly not for much longer.

Either my transformation will be complete, or I will be dead.

Although in the end, it means the same thing.