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.
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,