Huw & Precious

Huw Edwards is a famous news presenter in the UK who has been outed as a paedo. I don’t know the whole story, only what I heard on the radio. I don’t know if he has been grooming youngsters, making indecent images of children, or looking at images of children. If he has only been looking, I would let him off personally. What, it’s illegal to have a butchers!? I was only looking. I promise, I won’t touch lol. Where’s the harm? It’s like me with interracial pornography – I can’t help myself, it’s not my fault. It’s a deep-rooted seed within the evil loin, it’s natural, it’s how we were made. Sex is sex is sex. He’s only staring at a picture for Pete’s sake.

Maybe I’m too liberal. I don’t condone peering at kiddies whatsoever, before you ask. It’s not for me like. But I understand where our desire takes us. It traverses routes of the dark side unbeknown to all areas of light. It takes us meandering down black alleys, snickets and ginnels. It has no conscience and it knows no wrongs. Thirst and hunger don’t matter amidst the thrills and spills of sexual wantonness. We’re like rats ignoring the fluid while scuttling over hot surfaces to consume more cocaine.

He’s hardly kidnapping youngsters and inserting his todger into them, is he? That would be different. That would be serious paedophilia. Rape even. But why should a man who observes photographs be classified in the same bracket as a child rapist? Sometimes the differentiating criteria is hard to ascertain. Forgiven, in my estimation, for looking at pictures of anything, no matter what they are. They shouldn’t be made should they? It’s not the voyeurs fault.

This part is hard to write about. I’ve made verbal contact with a victim in the dungeon underneath my flat. I’ve named her ‘Precious’. We’ve been talking through the floorboards. It’s been rather humbling, hearing the sheer misery, pain and bravery in her voice as she speaks. She made me promise to stop fapping (masturbating) to pornography in my bedroom, as that’s when all the ritualistic psychosis appears (and the dungeon masters spring into life). That is why I’m fairly confident that I’m about to embark on a good spell. To imagine a woman beneath me all of the time as I enjoy a pain-free existence full of occasional-sporadic joy on the surface is a mixed bag to deal with. In a way it has the capacity to crush me from the inside-out, but on the other it has the potential to inspire more than I would have ever thought possible. I can’t put myself into her shoes, it’s impossible, I would start crying and never stop, but I can infrequently cogitate her while living in a bubble of ignorant bliss. I pray to God that my brain will forget what is going on, so I can have the ability to cope with my situation. My home is my home, not some evil hallowed ground above a pain chamber. I sleep there; I eat there; I read there; I exist there. I’ll accept that it’s my Golgotha (place of suffering) yes, but it’s also my retreat and my refuge.

I’ve just been to church, and sat next to me was a Christian girl who had the same bracelet on as one of the porn stars I’ve been ogling lately, swallowing giant interracial penis. She played on my mind quite a bit, and brought me off-focus away from the House of God, acting as a trigger for me to return to porn. I think I’ll resist (for Precious), but it’s just a reminder that the sexual urge will never disappear, or rather that bad wolf or devil on the shoulder will never ever be totally quietened. It’s something to be lived with for the rest of my life, for the utter whatever’s-left-duration of it, until I croak or kick the bucket or pop my clogs. Until I navigate my holy way off of this mortal coil. I’ve got bigger and better places to be. This blue spinning rock is just too cruel sometimes. I couldn’t live this existence again if you were to award me 75 billion quid. I couldn’t live it again for pearls, diamonds and rubies; for riches, women or grandeur. Now I know that Precious has been down there all of this time with no sunlight surrounded by cowardly twisted evildoers. And I wouldn’t want to revisit my own sin also. I’ve sinned with porn enough. You might think that porn is normal, that there is nothing wrong with it, the way that I think about Huw’s seedy pictures, but it’s the way I see it, and you don’t know the whole story similarly. There’s more to my fapping than interracial pornography. I fap to much darker stuff too. But, again, that’s another story. Mainly it’s the voices in my head, to be honest, but they’re satanic, and don’t deserve to be fapped to. And on that note, I’ll call it a day.

Be the best person you can be today. Over ‘n’ out for now. Cheers peeps.