Gerard, over at American Digest, has written a searingly personal post, well beyond what any online diary usually reveals about the person writing there, and you owe it to yourself - not to him, to yourself - to go over there and read it all.

It begins with his discovery of a bit of poetry in the newspaper description of one more homicide in California recently:

"He Wasn't In His Right Mind"

"All of the victims were shot in their heads and all but McGowan were shot in their beds," Doyle said.

"The beds were undisturbed. The house itself was undisturbed," Doyle said.

"There were no signs of a break-in," Doyle said.

-- No Motive Found in California Murders

And then, methodically, it takes us through Gerard's mind as he deals with loss, and anger, a homicidal thought or two of his own, a suicidal thought or two of his own.

Chilling stuff, I promise you, and you will be moved by it.

That said, I disagree with his premise that something outside of himself caused him to pause, when pausing saved a life, or two, and to abandon the downward spiral toward spontaneous, destructive acts.

I've been there, you see, and much of what he has written about himself I could have written about myself, if I had the writing talent that he has.

Which I do not.

And when the moment - no, the moments - came to me, both the triggering events prompting destructive thoughts and the release, redemption, from them, I'm pretty sure that they came from within, and not from any outside force, any outside agency.

Faith, I learned, can move mountains, and I have my share of it, I think.

And maybe what is inside is the product of that faith, or at least I'd like to think so.

But whatever it is, it's quite definitely inside of me.

And will be, I know, when I need it . . .

Next.

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