When I am asked about the reason I kill …. I often say; I don’t know.
I am not a talker and I hate explaining myself. But don’t I know? Well, Frankly I don’t know if I know.
It will be wrong to say it’s the money. Because it’s not just the money, and it’s not just the pleasure of killing.
Maybe it’s only the pleasure of killing if it consists of the money plus the pleasure of killing, by that I mean the frenzy .. the contracted muscles, the tensed nerves, the crushed neck .. sometimes ( I love to strangle people to death. )
Isn’t it that we do everything for the sake of pleasure? Absolutely any and everything?
We just so good at building some fucking illusions trying to feel noble and in control of our rebellious selves. Well I don’t buy this shit, I never bought it actually and I won’t .. never.
Whatever hidden, decorated, manipulated this pleasure is we are still seeking it.
For god sake, what’s the most noble act? Being generous and giving to the poor, in the case we give them thing we might need, is to feel the pleasure of not being so very self-centric, because we know, we do really know how self-centric bastards we really are. Pathetic!
They Call me a killer, they fear me, they mock me ( when I am in the cage obviously, they don’t have the guts to do it out there.), they lower me, I did nothing but follow my own pleasures, just like every one of them, my pleasures which happened to be more “perverted”, and if you ask me what is pervert? Pervert is what’s normal isn’t. who set the normals? They did, the hypocrites fuckin’ did.
I just followed my pleasures, why do I find pleasures in this? why am I so tempted by killing? why do I find terrible intolerable pain fighting this urge? Fuck if I know.
We’ll have to talk all the way back to the original sin.
Fuckin’ normal people! heh!
My last kill, I smashed a man’s bones, every one of them, keeping him awake through it all, the fucker was strong, he moved and broke the mirrors so I couldn’t strangle him ( I strangle people in a room full of mirrors, I love to watch their expressions as they go, I often release and re-strangle them, the kill takes about an hour, I can’t get enough of it !!! )
but I ended this ones life fast.
After crushing his legs to juice, we had a little talk, he asked me why am I doing this?
and I told him frankly, I just can’t stop doing it, the man in all his pain laughed, maybe the pain was intolerable that he lost his mind, I asked him why did he laugh, he said, in all his agony, that he believed that my suffering was not less than his.
I lost my appetite for him, and I ended his life fast. For some reason, his words hit a vital chord, touched something inside, the emptiness, the real reason I kill, the missing part that complete the-money-pleasure combination.
A part I can’t define, I couldn’t help myself, I cried, so hard, I didn’t think I can cry, why did I cry?….
I just felt that it was appropriate to end my life, you don’t feel appropriate to end your life, you really feel it’s inappropriate to live, there’s a big difference between the two.
I took a machete and stabbed myself so hard, and let myself fall on my knees, you will think I am crazy when I say to you, sometimes, when the pain is so hard you can’t feel it, maybe you concentrate enough not to feel it, it’s like you convert the pain from a defined one to a strong existent undefined emotion.
and that very emotion, was all that I needed.
why the words sounds so fuckin’ strange one may ask? what the hell is that? well I don’t know what you were expecting, NORMAL MAN !!! I don’t care about what do you think, and maybe you should taste my garrote, actually normal people give me the strongest euphoria.
Normal man, you are the burden of yourself, and of mine too, you made me .. now bear me!