Its burning inside, I can feel it. The thoughts creeping in, never ending, they don't stop. A constant state of readiness to jump on the act of aggression to hurt and torture, but I can't because I'm not like that. I want to be a good person, I have to be, but that's hard when I fake everything. I have no friends even though they would call me one. No family that I love, even though I have caring parents and a family of my own. I constantly tell myself it's okay, you can gut your neighbor, you just have to make it look like an accident. That's the other voice talking. Me though, I know that's crazy, it would be very impractical to gut someone and make it look like an accident. I'm much more logical then that.

I am not schizophrenic, it's actually a safety mechanism that I came up with when I first started feeling these urges to hurt others. I gave these thoughts a body, a face with no features, a shade if you will, nothing discernable. In my mind I would kill this thing over and over and over so I wouldnt hurt those around me.

I was 8 when I started feeling this way, when I created the shade me. This worked for a time, the desire to hurt others eventually subsided to a dull roar the only raised its head every now and then but when I was 14 the thoughts came back a thousand fold. This time the shade was more defined. I know now that I'm older the shade was just me. A shade me.

The desire to hurt others was so intense that I even isolated myself from others. I would even question myself if maybe I did something and just didn't remember it. I would question everything. I would try to relieve the pressure in my mind by hurting myself. I wouldn't cut, that wasn't my thing, but we all have a thing, and my thing can't really be hidden. I would pick at my fingers to feel the pain and to see the blood. My blood. It was okay for me to hurt myself, just not others. The pain would make me forget, relieve the pressure but I did it so much when I was younger it is second nature to me now. Needless to say we all have disgusting habits. The sight of my own blood was better then somebody else's.

Nobody knows me, the real me. They think they do, but the don't. They know what I show them. A simple mask I wear to fit in or blwnd in. People are humans, I am not. I am something else, something more. I don't feel what people feel. It's like my feelings are heavily sedated by my own mind which I am in a constant war with. I cannot let it win, not even for a second because it would be so easy to fall into step.

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When i was younger i used to idolize serial killers. They were my celebrities. I empathized with what they did and how they did it. The zodiac was my all time favorite. I wanted to be like them more then anything. But i knew this feeling was wrong, it wasnt a good thought. So i drowned myself in fictional slaughter on online plateforma which helped me sate my desires. Thanks playstation live.

i had hobbies growing up. I used to get so excited when my dad would bring home a dear after hunting. The sweet red as it spilled out of his truck bed, the different shades of red that I wanted to finger paint with. I could wait to kill my own deer. I was so excited to get my first deer because I had to be the one to gut it. I remember slowly pressing the knife in just below the rib cages. The skin resisting my blade until it gave way to my sharpened steal. Then to reverse the blade and use the gutting tool of the knife. To feel the skin part with more resistance then I thought ass I guided it down the belly. It was so warm and the blood was hot.

I have a sibling who is nothing like me. We are similair in looks but we couldn't be more different. For starters he's human, and I am not. I remember I was with him when he first went hunting. Just him and I and who he thinks I am. Have to keep up the facade even infront of the family. He shot his dear from 100 yards away. I felt closer to him in that moment then any time prior. The issue was he only managed to wound the deer. He hit it in the lower jaw and the bullet went up into the brain but only slightly. The jaw was just barely hanging on and the deer was still alive but barely. This is the first time somebody saw me for who I truly am. I took of the mask for just a moment. I told him to stand back while I finish it off. I pulled my 1911 and put all 7 rounds into its head just to see if it would explode like in the movies. No empathy, no remorse of its suffered. If anything I was more disappointed that it didn't explode but at the same time excited because I finally let the shade me win. The issue was my brother saw what I did and the smile on my face.

I feel like a bad person, pretending to be a good person because I want to be good. But that was before I let my shade me win.