Imagine you've cut a cake five or six times, each slice having the same color, however, a different shade.
Now replace the cake with sides of oneself.
Now Replace oneself with Me; I am that cake.
The me that is of a higher mind, which I consider my conscious.
I have a side of me that only manifests when drunk.
A side of me that only manifests when high.
The me who is sober.
The me that represents my thinking.
And then there is him, Malum.
The darkest slice of the cake. He lurks, spectating, snickering...planning.
He's the voice in my head that wishes I were dead...so that he could swallow my vessel and turn it into his own.
He and I have a contract; I am to control and maintain my body, so long as I never been put into a full-on life-or-death position, or I am not mentally sacrificial.
I've witnessed potential realities in which he had control...and it's terrifying.
I hope he never gets out.
I am not afraid to fight, because I fear failure; I am afraid of Malum and what he will do. He is not human...and he definitely doesn't fight for humanity.
He is the me that wanted the world to burn...and he still does. He has no empathy, no sympathy, and he craves destruction. He's calculated, analytical, and he lacks love. He is pure evil...and he is waiting.
He is waiting for me to die.
So that he can swallow me alive, and turn the world upside down.
