The Repellent Scars of Abandon and 

Election
The feeling of destroying the capacity for inward peace, an insane dance 
with the angels of innocence admist thorns and in frenzy, the warmth of 
a divine blessing, a daringness which prevailed over any imaginable fear 
hovering on the brink of a voluntary act of contrition, but soon all pales 
besides the cry this shattering [bad word] wrests from all fellow men, there is 
more to it than suffering and sounds of suffering, it is a process that only 
the extinction of a divine sould could terminate. The eye can outstare neither 
the sun, nor death... if I sought God it was in delirium and in the delight of 
temptation. 

The idea of [bad word]  I believe, from the one whom suffering breaks 
apart. He who masters it, on the contrary, needs to be broken, to proceed 
on the path towards [bad word]  

Nothing of what man can know, to this end, could be evaded without 
degradation, without sin, - is it no burdento bear the repellent scars of 
abandon, of election? - it leaves but a state of supplication and deserted 
expanses, an absorption into despair. The existence of things cannot enclose 
the death which it brings to me; the existence is itself projected into my 
death, and it is my death which encloses it. I deranged? Over and above 
quietism! Nurtured by the multitude of man's misfortunes, a thousand halos 
like torches in the night of the spirit, a thousand traps, pitfalls of brimstone 
and the empty sky, prostrated face against the earth in frantic laughter... 

I was beyond withstanding my own ignominy. I invoked it and blessed it. 
I progressed even further into vileness and degradation. I resurging, 
intact, out of infamy?