EVIL & FEAR: Born or Taught?

Lots of children have fears of the dark and ghosts and monsters and the devil and God.
In the beginning perhaps out of sheer loneliness, I didn't have those fears, I thought if ghosts or monsters were to approach me, once I showed my acceptance to them, they would love me and want to be my friend and play with me, because I would never hurt them and they would just sense that I was kind and loving and GOOD. I distinctly remember begging the monsters and ghosts to please come out and play with me, I wouldn't hurt them, I knew they were just like me and they only wanted a friend to play with. Realistically, I knew that if said creatures existed, they weren't "of this world" and I was OK with that, as I was not happy being here at all. I used to look out my bedroom window, up at the stars in the night sky wishing and hoping that aliens would send a ship down to rescue me, and I would pray to them to take me away.
By age 4, the concept of a punishing God was branded into me by my parents. Every time I so much as stubbed my toe, I was being punished for the horrible thoughts running through my evil little mind. I knew deep down that I wasn't evil and I wasn't deserving of this punishment. But I wasn't strong enough to fight the lessons I was being taught.
When I was 6, my loneliness was very clear, I was not like other kids, I was not interested in being like other kids. So they got me a puppy. I loved him, and trained him myself, he was remarkably obedient, but only to me. This was the first time that I felt as though any being on earth understood me, loved me, or appreciated me. Then they sent me away, my puppy and I were separated. Again I was alone and empty and hopeless. I was 7 when I returned and my puppy was a full grown 125 pound dog. He remembered me, and I loved him and missed him so much, but it was not the same, I didn't get to see him grow. I resented them for sending me away and forcing me to miss out on his whole puppyhood.
The dog remained my best friend, but that just wasn't enough. The rage which seemed to double inside of me daily, the fact that God had punished me and gave me what I had deserved for being "bad" was seeping into my thought process, coupled with the revelation that nobody understood me. My parents were sick fucks, they had no idea the damage that they were doing. I taught myself to draw as a way to try to direct some of my frustration into a healthy outlet, I began writing short stories, poems, and kept journals. Nothing could bring peace to my heart, nothing could fill the hole in my soul, nothing could take away the crippling sadness. I attempted to take my own life.
There was no remedy applied to my action, after all, what would the neighbors think? I was a very sick kid and I needed help. My relief seeking behaviors really became apparent. Stealing cookies, eating sugar right out of the bowl, food was my first form of self medication. I soon became obese. I stole from candy stores and my mother's purse. I also became physically aggressive when anyone or anything interfered with obtaining my medicine. In a tantrum, I put my fist through my bedroom window around age 8 and was not punished. My father justified this by the fact that I had sustained a minor injury. A cut on my hand and arm. This cut which was painless to me, opened my mind to my second form of medication, self mutilation. I became a cutter. My belly and my thighs were places that I could hide the marks and summertime, mosquito bites could be picked and scratched and I learned I didn't even need a bug bite to pick my skin raw. I did whatever I could do to allow myself to release the tension and pressure of living in this horrible world that I really didn't want to be in.
About 10 years old, I weighed 130 pounds, with scratches, scars, scabs, and cuts all over, a pediatrician recommended some therapy.
By 11, I was defiant to the greatest extreme, out of control, and had suffered a complete loss of trust or faith in anyone or anything positive or healthy. I would lie compulsively, steal without need, cheat at board games, and assault anyone including my mother for trying to set a limit with me. This would be the year I had sex, started using and abusing drugs, drinking, and first ran away from home.
With rage fueling my decisions and no identifiable fear, I would set out to face the world and to fight all of it's demons to the death. The idea of kindness and goodwill toward all was completely shattered in my mind. I no longer carried that belief that I was good, the idea that my seat in Heaven would be secure, simply by being the kind, loving, generous, child that I had been, was gone. My mind had a different thought, they knew something that I couldn't comprehend, they couldn't comprehend me, which must mean I was fundamentally different, exactly what they had been saying all along, I must have been just what they said, I was in fact, that EVIL child.