Why do we kill? Why
are there people in the world who delight in taking lives from others? Who
desire nothing more than organized chaos derived from carnal pleasures of flesh
tearing flesh?
My husband likes to
think that darkness is fostered in children; "killers are made, they're
not born", he says. Like it’s a condition, a disease. Some sort of trauma
that should be purged. But even he agrees that everyone is capable of darkness.
Everyone is capable of taking that knife and plunging it into someone else’s
heart.
They just need the
right motivation.
Some don’t need any
push at all, they understand the bloodlust that runs through our veins – the desire
for ultimate, intimate control.
And murder is the most
intimate act, equated to sex. Passionate, driven, a release of emotion. Skin
against skin. It’s easy to see how someone could be turned on by the idea of
watching a man take his final breath knowing you took that from him.
I don’t wonder why I
kill, and I don’t wonder why I’m not alone. I wonder why the ones who are seemingly
appalled by what I do, crave it so much and so often. They seek out darkness
they’re too afraid to touch themselves.
Are we simply a
society of sadists? Delighting in the pain inflicted on others; worshipping
those who are simply acting on the urges that everyone has?
It’s no coincidence
that I’m still able to do what I do after all these years.
Attention.
Sensationalized,
victim blaming, attention is what keeps me warm at night.
And my husband, of
course, who assures me every day, that what I do is a public service.
Perpetuating the economy through mass media.
“Keeping the dead
alive.”
That’s not why I do
it, of course. I do it for my own gratification. The violent release of energy
against anyone I choose. As an afterthought I collect the victims in my
journals but all of that information comes from someone else who thought that
death was worthy of discussion over life.
Darkness over light.
I think of this in a
time formerly dedicated to honour the no-longer-living, then a time for
terrorizing children, and now a time spent humanizing even the foulest of
monsters.
How times have changed. And yet stayed the
same.
This will be the first Halloween in
fourteen years that I don’t go hunting; searching for the most hilariously
ironic murder I can commit.
I love Halloween. I find it fascinating. It’s
the one day that everyone wears a mask, and it’s the one day I don’t have to.
Even though I’m not going out there this
year, I worry about the rest of my neighbourhood. Especially the children. There
are some real creeps out there who wear a mask that exposes more than their
true nature – it exposes their darkest fantasies; and those should be kept
hidden.
Be safe this year; stick to the lit areas
and watch out for people who aren’t wearing masks.
I’m not out there to protect you.
As always, dear readers,
Stay Safe
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