“But it IS driving me crazy”
What I want to do the most… I cannot do. No, because then I would harm them – physically and mentally. And I don’t want that. It’s really the last thing I want, because they are so sweet. The last thing I want is to hurt them, in any way whatsoever… But I want to do things with them. Very much. I really want it…
I really want to have sex… with girls… who are eight years old.
I think the entire day about it, it’s in my head: in the morning, in the afternoon, in the evening, … at night. Those fantasies keep coming, and they keep getting heavier and hotter and I can’t escape them. The only thing I can do is masturbate a bit and then they are gone for like half an hour… but after that they return and they are driving me crazy! They are driving me crazy and it is as if these kids… smell that.
For instance, I’m walking down the street, minding my own business. I’m alone, not bothering anyone… Suddenly, there’s that voice behind me: (girly voice, Snow)“Sir? Sir? Can you please tie my shoe lace?” And then I sit there, with a huge hard tying that shoe lace. And then I see that little leg, and that little knee, and it’s all so soft and young and so sweet and pure and innocent… and then I want to… I want to… But I don’t do it! Never! I will never do it! I never did it and I never will! But it is driving me crazy.
Another time, walking down the street again. (girly voice again, Snow)“Sir? Sir? Can you please lift me up over that fence?” and then I say “Okay” and I lift that girl up, over the fence, and then I feel her little… dress… and I smell her hair… and then I lift her over that fence and… harrr! You know, it’s a good thing I’m not an elementary school teacher anymore, because you know, it’s like putting the cat near the milk (don’t really know if that’s the correct English expression, but I’m sure you know what is meant, Snow), I only made it harder for me this way – and it is already this hard. It’s so hard.
A few weeks ago I had to babysit my brother’s daughter. I was working during the day, I was filthy, so I took a bath at my brother’s to save some time. In comes his daughter, age seven. “I want to take a bath as well” You see, and the first answer that comes to mind is “yesyesyesyesyesyesyes” but I don’t say it! I don’t say that! I say “no, you have to wait until I am finished, and then if you want, you can take a bath as well” and then she says “no I want to take a bath with you”. I reply “no, you can’t, now go away from the bath room and go play somewhere else”. And I am actually rejecting that child! I am rejecting her! And then I wonder, is that good? Is that really good I am rejecting her this way? I don’t know.
And then my mind goes wondering… hypothetically… I mean, really hypothetically… What if she comes to bath with me? We would be together, in the bath, in the water… She’s naked. I am naked. With a raging hard on (sorry for the language, I really can’t cover this one and do justice to the original text, Snow). Yeah, you can be sure about that. And this girl, she doesn’t know about that. This girl is curious, and what if… you know… she would just… touch it for a while… grab it, out of curiosity… (comes to his senses, Snow) But I know it’s not right! I know it’s not right and that is why I won’t do it! Never ever!
I don’t want to want this. But I don’t seem to have any say in this. A german philosopher once said that human beings have the choice to do whatever they desire. They are free to do so. But I say human beings can not choose what they want. I feel like I’m walking through a scorching desert for days, and around me are hundreds of tiny glasses of ice cold water – but I’m not allowed to drink from any of them. I never did drink from them, and I will never drink from them! I control myself, I keep pushing it away, and I will cramp it up until I get cancer and I will eventually die from it, and that, that is my life.
Creo que este texto, por más bien que esté en algunos aspectos, cae en el mismo defecto que la enorme mayoría: su falta de realidad, su exageración, su melodrama.
“I think the entire day about it, it’s in my head: in the morning, in the afternoon, in the evening, … at night. Those fantasies keep coming, and they keep getting heavier and hotter and I can’t escape them.”
Acá está la idea de que los pedófilos están “obsesionados”, que piensan en niñas todo el día, que es una “compulsión”, una “obsesión”.
“But it is driving me crazy.”
Acá está la idea del pedófilo como “desesperado”, como “enfermo” incapaz de vivir normalmente una vida tranquila.
Más allá de que sea exagerado, melodramático y prejuicioso, me parece un buen (o al menos, útil) texto.