For those of you wondering about the currently open cold case involving yours truly, I’m more frustrated than worried. James’ precinct isn’t working the case so he hasn’t been able to find out much. For one: we still don’t know what new evidence has surfaced in the past two years.
I’ve now learnt the boy’s name and what he did for a living. Neither are of any importance which only makes me more curious about why this is happening now. I’d say it’s driving me crazy but I know what it feels like to go crazy and this is just annoying.
When the police know more than I do, lives are at stake.
I remember back when Sandra became suspicious of me. She called the police and had me questioned for such a trivial case – like this one. God, I wanted to kill her.
Maybe someone’s coming after me.
Maybe I’m paranoid.
Oh I can’t move on.
I find myself facing my mortality lately; reflecting on the way my life has gone – especially in the last few years. I turn 39 on Friday. In a year I’ll be 40. 40; that was a number I feared when I was a kid. 40 was old. It meant being settled down in my life, no more ambition or desire for change. No more adventure. And now I’m here.
I thought I would feel differently. Like something would click in my head and suddenly I would have all the wisdom that comes with being 40. I have the mentality of a 20 year old sometimes: a head full of fantasies and ideas about what the world around me should be like. Instead of accepting the world around me, I live in my head. I get so angry when the world doesn't look the way I imagined it as a teenager that I wonder if that's why I started killing.
I don't fear my desire to kill, or shy away from it - clearly - but I rarely question why I started. It was so long ago, I can barely remember. 40 seemed like such a lifetime away back then. In any case, I’m still 38 and have plenty of time to mope about the trials and tribulations of my life.
What ever happened to the girl who killed her high school crush behind the bleachers and was content with that life?
Oh god, what has gotten into me?
You know, I was so proud of myself: last Sunday marked a year since Sandra’s death and I held it together very well. However, all week I’ve found myself in a…melancholy sort of mood.
I don’t like it. I am in the prime of my life. The height of both my careers, a loving family at home; what more could a woman want?
Answers about this fucking case?
What do they have?
As always, dear readers,