Well, well…what have we here
I’m not feeling particularly angry or upset. But, I am thinking of killing people. Not that I can, physically, luckily for some people. Its nothing new, and I don’t know what brought it back up, but its here. =3 I don’t really like guns, so those are out, RA symptoms would keep me from doing anything else. The stuff I would rather do. Stabbing, cutting, ligature strangulation…maybe rendering some helpless before I kill them. Depends on the person, really. I have a few in mind, good thing I dont know where they are right now, or I might have had to try, even /with/ my limitations.
No one that ‘knows’ me, would think I’m serious if I were to say something like this out loud. Not that I would, this is the /big IF/ musings. They would say I’m not capable of hurting others, let alone killing them. But they are wrong. This side of me isn’t appropriate for sharing, so I don’t. I’ve hinted at it, dropping hints to check reactions since I was a teenager. Shock, disgust–no, revulsion, unease, disbelief are some of the most common reactions I’ve gotten. People around me don’t want to see it as reality, that it could be reality, so they don’t. Most people are very good to turning a blind eye to things they don’t want to acknowlege.
I would like to think that I have the self control to be a serial killer…but I’m not sure that would be the outcome. Too many years of impotent rage, virulent and feeding on itself, growing stronger and darker. Once unleashed, I’m not sure that I could control myself, control it to the point of stopping and letting it out in short bursts, serial killer style. I think I would more likely end up a spree killer. And that bugs me…spree killers are hardly noticed, and the attention span given to them is quite short and limited…there is always ‘a reason’. His dad was a drunk who beat him, he had no friends in school, he grew up poor, there was violence in the home, he was abandoned as a child. Those are not reasons, they are excuses. I have all but one of those in my past…and more. And my violence hasn’t been unleashed. It feels quite close sometimes…but if it ever did–or does, I don’t want anyone to think it was because of things like that. Those were fodder, they will make the fire burn brighter and hotter, but they didn’t start the fire…they just got burned. Kind of like the people who I have in mind. But, I know my IQ is high enough that I could escape notice, at least for awhile, if I was serialing…but IQ doesn’t govern always, sad to say.
Too many things to think about, I can’t get to them all…let alone my poor, fucked up fingers scrabbling to keep up. Too many thoughts and memories for one mind, no matter how well organized and effective. Alas, my IQ is pretty high, but still too low for myself to be satisfied with…and it just adds its own fodder because of this. Maybe the fodder will collect around me, and when the fire starts, I will be the only one burned. Stuck in the middle of a mess of my own making…making myself suffer as so many others before. And I shall let the rage out, finally, feel the fire as a fine rage instead of a torture. And when it burns out, my rage and the fire, I will feel no more. I may be at peace, at last. And the world will be a better place, a safer-saner place, once again.