Your Mid-Week Update for 03/11/20

People are so predictable. Person to person, what happens is anyone’s guess but people? People have patterns. I thrive off patterns. Not my own – because a person is anyone’s guess – but the collective people’s desire for collective normalcy.

That’s right. We’re pulling out the bullshit phrases that don’t really mean anything today.

Because…

That profiler they brought in about the Glitter Bomber – amazing title, I was very happy with the press this week – was completely off. You know why? Because people are predictable. Their analysis of the crime scene and of the “killer who committed this heinous crime” didn’t actually say anything new.

A 30-year old male with a history of anti-social behavior. Has a twisted sense of humor that others might find off-putting. Has a secondary or primary connection to the victim. “At this time, we do not consider the suspect a threat to the general public.”

Aka: no serial killer.

So. Predictable.

I walk a fine line between taking advantage of other’s weaknesses and being critical of how much weakness there is to be taken advantage of.

Serial murder is such a misogynistic practice. I enjoy being at the top of my field but part of me will always know that I got to the top because I was constantly underestimated and not because of my genuine skill.

Don’t get me wrong: my skill is impeccable. But there is no real way for me to measure my greatness against others since the last female killer to come close to my numbers died 500 years ago.

It’s not like there’s an Olympics of murder. To test the best and the brightest in different categories. Although I do sometimes race Casey to see who can strangle someone the fastest.

I let her win, of course. Got to get her confidence up if she’s going to become independent.

But that’s not the same.

I suppose the only way to truly know how I stack up against the greats is to die and let my victim list speak on my behalf. I’ll never tell. And I’ll never go to trial.

James and I talked about that a long time ago. I’d rather he escape with his life but I will never go to trial unless I am guaranteed to win. And never for the crimes I’ve actually committed.

I won’t be around to let the world judge me for the life I’ve led. That’s for me and my maker to sort out.

See. You bring out the flowery, useless language, you get a little existential. It’s a rule.

Until the day comes that I have to make the hard choices, I get to live knowing that no one knows how amazing I am at what I do. But I know. And today that’s enough.

As always, dear readers,

Stay Safe