I don't grow a socially unacceptable moustache. Neither do I give an evil look. My eyes don't squint at the sight of a prey. I do not clench my fist, gnarl my teeth or give sinister grins. Forget a maniacal laugh, I hardly laugh. But I am the bad guy. I am the villain.
There's a reason the heaven's light fall upon an angel. They shine only under that light. Bring an angel to the dark, and you watch him turn into another Lucifer. Plummeting into the depths of badness. No lights? No holds.
I am that angel. When the light shines on me. When the eyes track my every movement. I act. For civilization. For 'being' civil. Doing what a billion others would do. The grind. Milling it out on an assembly line of insipid lives. I glance at my watch. I look outside. There's still time to go. There's still time for me to become.
Till then it's paperworks. And then spreadsheets. Followed by meetings and conferences. All the feedback sessions, presentations, goals. All the work of the world, is but an excuse to exist for a world. A name on a business card. An exhibit of my existence. A lie I live.
The world is not black and white. It's not grey either. It's black. Black is reality. Evil is easy. Acting is tough. So is being good. Sins are classified. Beliefs enforced. Goodness an obligation. But instincts make us predators. And the predators, survive.
Being is easy. Consequences are tough. It's easy to be an asshole. It's tough when shit gets thrown at you. Work constipates. It blocks our urge for entropy. To go out and break stuff. Throw a stone at a neighbour's window. Kill someone. And guilt kills you back.
We are such feeble bastards. Not just physically. Emotionally. Surprising, that we lost in a mind game we started.
We are who we are at dark. If we cry in the dark, we are cowards. If we fuck in the dark, we are rapists. If we love in the dark, we are an act.
So welcome to the dark side of things. Here no one sees you. If they don't see you, they don't judge you. Who you are is just a mask. And here, the darkness is your mask. Your identity shall be left outside. Along with your wallet, your cellphone and other electronic devices.
When you come to my darbar you do things the way I want. The way no one wants. And that's the way everyone really wants it to be. Off with inhibitions. Everything you do is a step closer to inevitable death. This is a suicide mission. If it makes things easier; so is Life.
The angels are awaiting their bounty upstairs. Guarded by the lights. You will go to them. As sinners. As disgustful people who has been up to no good. You have done terrible deeds. Spiteful to the core. You are despised everywhere for the sole reason that you are.
Like I said. You don't have to twirl a moustache. Or alter your face. Wear that mask under the light. You don't have to do things bad. Things will become bad. And later, worse. And disturbingly hellish. You will be cast down.
But you will go down into the boils as you. As an honest expression. As a Villain.