November 2024
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    Today I have finished reading ‘Tales of Horror’ (a rathet misleading title placed by publisher tbh) by Edgar Allan Poe, quite a novelty for me. One of the stories that interested me is called *’The imp of the perverse’* and tackles, in Poe’s sophisticated manner, with aforementioned intrusive thoughts.

    So, the fragment that caught my immediate attention contained the following words:
    *’We stand by the brink of precipice. We peer into the abyss – we grow sick and dizzy. Our first impulse is to shrink from the danger. Unaccountably we remain. (…) there grows into palpability a shape far more terrible than any genius or any demon of a tale, and yet it is but a thought, although a fearful one, which chills the very marrow of our bones with **the fierceness of the delight of its horror**. It is merely the idea of what would be our sensations during the sweeping precipitancy of a fall from such a height. And this fall—this rushing annihilation—for the very reason that it involves that one most ghastly and loathsome of all the most ghastly and loathsome images of death and suffering which have ever presented themselves to our imagination—for this very cause do we now the most vividly desire it.’*

    I immediately understood the feeling the narrator related and moreover, some memories from my childhood have struck me. I remember (don’t count me mad), at the age of nine or ten years old, pondering on what will happen if I stick my finger into the socket. This intrusive, groundless thought quickly evolved into the realization that in this way I could put an end to my life, and this very though – that, if captured by the *imp of perverse*, consciously and unconsciously at the same time, I could eventually cause my own doom in mere *seconds* – it caused me great terror, a kind of peculiar sense of fear (for I knew it could never happen, but still was afraid).

    Once, when I was eight y.o. or so, I could not sleep at night due to another intrusive (and quirky) thought – that I could in theory strangle myself to death, and that the only obstacole between life and death is my mind, a feeble barrier of reason, and if, by any chance, there would come a strong, overwhelming idea that I should strangle myself – I would be able to do it. In other words, I was terrified for hours in the night by the possibility of letting myself into non-existence trough *my own actions*.

    Well, such thoughts gradually vanished, and I also learnt about biological impossibility of things mentioned above. But it is a peculiar thing to ponder on – that one word, one action that we do mislead by intrusive thoughts, by the *imp of perverse* – it can ruin our life, or extinguish it. But in reality we never do it – our reason is strong enough.

    Have you ever entertained such thoughts? It may happen that these are in fact a well-known thing in psychology and a thing known to everyone, self-evident and hence boring – if this is the case, take my apologies.

    by ArthRol

    1 Comment

    1. Also, the story narrated reminded me of ‘Crime and punishment’. But in Dostoyevsky’s novel, the protagonist confesses due to guild – while Poe’s character does so due to intrusive thoughts, or… might this also be guilt?

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