What Looked Like Morning Was The Beginning

When The Filter Is Weakened By A Powerful Drug, What We See Is Not Delusion But The Truth.

I Have Never Read Horror, Nor Do I Consider The Exorcist To Be Such, But Rather As A Suspenseful Supernatural Detective Story, Or Paranormal Police Procedural.

Every Man That Ever Lived Craved Perfect Happiness, The Detective Poignantly Reflected. But How Can We Have It When We Know We’re Going To Die? Each Joy Was Clouded By The Knowledge It Would End. And So Nature Had Implanted In Us A Desire For Something Unattainable? No. It Couldn’t Be. It Makes No Sense. Every Other Striving Implanted By Nature Had A Corresponding Object That Wasn’t A Phantom. Why This Exception? The Detective Reasoned. It Was Nature Making Hunger When There Wasn’t Any Food. We Continue. We Go On. Thus Death Proved Life.

Yet I Think The Demon's Target Is Not The Possessed; It Is Us . . . The Observers . . . Every Person In This House. And I Think---i Think The Point Is To Make Us Despair; To Reject Our Own Humanity, Damien: To See Ourselves As Ultimately Bestial; As Ultimately Vile And Putrescent; Without Dignity; Ugly; Unworthy.

The Demon Is A Liar. He Will Lie To Confuse Us; But He Will Also Mix Lies With The Truth To Attack Us. His Attack Is Psychological, Damien. And Powerful.