I am hollow... empty inside and unable to feel. I don't mind faking every mundane interaction and I don't see it as a big deal. That doesn't mean I don't get tired of it. Why should I have to interact with the living when ninety percent of the time I am thinking of ways to kill them? As of late I have been able to cap the well and bottle the beast inside (mixed metaphors, but screw it). But now it has found its way back out and its claws are tearing me apart from the inside. I don't believe I am insane, but I'm about as far away from reality as you can get. I am the type of person who would be happy to torture and kill a helpless person strapped to an operating table.
Perhaps one day my knife will experience the joy of flesh. I think there is nothing wrong with this or anything else I've done, and that's my right. However, I do know that society views it as wrong so I try to hide these dark and possibly unhealthy thoughts and fantasies. I try and feel guilty when I violate their important commands, but it's beyond me. I don't really care what they have to say or about their rules, but I do enjoy my freedom. So no matter how much I want to go out and have an adventure called the WFTIRLTA, I shall try to restrain myself.
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