I’m not a perfect person; that’s what the world would say about me. You wanna know why I did it? You wanna know what turns a nice human being into a sick cold blooded creature that lives off of the scum on the streets? Society and its compelling needs to label. I don’t expect you to understand me as I don’t understand myself. My dad had the same issue, but then he went and killed my mother. Labels define who I am more than who I am. It takes away my control, and to hold someone’s life in my hands. To be in control, my god it’s endearing. There is a moment of a power that you gain from pulling someone aside and letting them bleed out. I am not a coward like others that have to drug people then kill them; That is weak. How much would you respect someone with their hands around your neck. I know what you all think and honestly I don’t care. I am not just some attention seeking irresponsible child that doesn’t know what they are doing, I know full well they are never coming back. They were horrible people. Everyday I would hide from them and my god when they would cry over the pettiest things it sickened me. I have cried. I am not an emotionless fraud pretending to fit in. I am done with that life now. I used to cry and I would be ashamed of myself for doing it because I would look desperate. But these people, crying over some trivial threat. They have no shame. But I take action and I am the horrible person. They make everyone look stupid and I’m the idiot because I don’t fall for the same act time and time again. No matter what I’ve just said. I killed because I liked it. People pay attention that way.