Why can’t she understand? Because she’s incapable of understanding, replied my dark side. And I knew at once that it was true. A person like my mother, a normal person with scruples, would never understand what it was like to be someone like me. She could never relate to feeling nothing. She could never comprehend my compulsion to harm others or do bad things. Nobody could. Despite Mom’s insistence to always want the truth, she couldn’t accept the truth.
