#argrysasylum

( This is solo is extremely mature content and discusses sensitive subjects such as rape, murder, incest, substance abuse and uses bad language. You’ve been warned. )

Before I say anything…Anything at all, I would like to stress the fact that this is all pointless. All of it. Life, this place, breathing…Becoming someone. It’s all so fucking pointless.

I will most probably get caught writing this and will lose my right to use this room and the therapist will most likely get ahold of it to analyze it for his psycho fucked up reasons, trying to figure out who I am and why I behave the way I do, eventually stamping some stupid ass diagnoses on top of the few I already have and linking it to an awful childhood to make it easy. That’s the easy way, everyone goes the easy way. Or worse…I could reread it and realize how truly pointless and idiotic this whole venture on the paper has been and scrape it, smash it in my fist like a girl’s breast and throw it away like I would her.

In any case it; all goes back to one and one realization: That this is meaningless.

Anyhow…After rambling about useless worthless bullshit no one really cares about, I would like to start now.

How / do / you start a thing like this? What is this? A diary? An entry on a piece of shitty paper, in a shitty room at a shitty hospital in a shitty town all falling beneath a shitty life? I have absolutely no reason as to why I am doing this…

Doing this to reflect I guess? To see where and what I did wrong to get caught. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t think I’m a genius who can’t ever be at fault, I can be but I’m also smart. I’m super smart and I don’t just say it like a girl who won a beauty pageant or had parents that kept telling her she was smart because in reality she was just a dumb cunt. I say it because I am. Advanced physics on higher level and AP extra calculus for the fun of it smart.

I could start with a cliché quote like ‘To be or not to be, that is the question’ or ‘ I became insane with long intervals of horrible sanity’ But then again…. Oh YES!  this isn’t one of those stories where the main character starts the shit with ‘I always knew what I was’ because BULL FUCKING SHIT! No one knows who the fuck they are or what the fuck they are doing at least two kids short and a marriage behind…No one knows why we’re here or what we’re doing and for sure no one wakes up one day ensured that they are a sicko. No one wants that…Like I said…POINTLESS.

Everyone just closes their eyes shut and just goes with it because that’s what you’re supposed to do.  I’m just not up for that life so I guess instead of boring the whiteness of the paper and wasting what I can sneak into my room I should start. Maybe at the beginning…But where / is / the beginning? I guess I /could/ start from puberty but that would be a lie because I know it was before that when I realized I was about to do something crazy. It was way before puberty and I hate liars, so I’ll try to be as honest as I can.

Which reminds me…Trying to find an error? Yeah that’s a big fat lie. I think in my own twisted way I am writing this so I can have an excuse to reminisce without looking away at a distance like these old farts do, glaring at a dot on the wall for hours…Those are the real crazy ones. The ones you can’t imagine what they were like before this life in this place…That’s so depressing when you think about it. Most of these lads have had a life outside here but no one ever truly has the understanding to get it…No one can see them for what they once were and to stop my mind from becoming / that / pathetic I have to keep busy. However it may be…Because…Yeah. I do fear losing my shit. In a place like this? Who wouldn’t?

I didn’t really grasp the fact that something was wrong or maybe even different about me (Perhaps this is due to parents and basically everyone else always whispering how especial and different you are even when you’re nothing but a little piece of normal shit, wasting the air actual important people could use.) till the words took meaning; so I should probably start from the strange things that started happening. Things I now know were the beginning.

First event which strikes some sort of an alert now looking back, would be this girl named Julia. ( By Julia I mean Margaret and by a girl I mean my sister. It’s just easier to distance yourself from them, give them new names and new stories. That way the guilt never catches up and I am capable of guilt, that has been proven so don’t judge, fucker!) She used to cry when I was around four and she had just been born. See…I wanted to read my comics (Mostly Batman and Joker stuff. I hate Batman…I love Joker. Joker is awesome.)  and she just wouldn’t shut up!! So I’d sneak into her room and put a pillow on her head, pressing it hard so that she may stop but she never did. Only cried harder but the good thing about the little adorable baby Julia was that she couldn’t be heard through the pillow. Some fact you and I both might need for future references.

Note : Pillows are good as a silencer in movies and in real life? They’re perfect for screaming into. No one hears a damn thing.

Anyhow, I kept on doing it till she quit crying but then…Not sneaking into her room and making her pretty baby face go red left a huge hole in my heart. As if something important was ripped out of my life and I couldn’t put my finger on it. I mean...It was weird. Why would I want to hurt her for no reason?

In case you’re wondering? That’s not why I started talking about Julia. I started talking about Julia because I did…Hurt her. Repeatedly.

At first it was petty things. Kicking her under the table or pinching her arm and slowly it progressed as I grew up. I once shoved her down the stairs just to see if she’d break her ankles…

She broke her arm instead. I was disappointed.

Juli Juli Juli…Julia. Oh the first girl I loved.

She’s so cruel but I guess…It’s all my doing.

I think the real damage was done after I was bored with picking on her here and there. I would always pull her hair, smack her around whenever I could but even after I had made her choke on a piece of an airplane she wanted so bad, I wasn’t satisfied.

Everything I did with her were just experiments or sheer boredom but then…She betrayed me. Jackson and Julia…Julia and Jackson. Everyone loved them together. Ugh even the thought is making me homicidal.

I probably shouldn’t have written that, if a doctor sees it, they won’t ever shut up about it but that was our deal…Truth and nothing but the truth.

So this guy comes around, right? Out of nowhere and starts playing with / my / toy! It was so unfair! Julia was mine. She was always mine, she will always be mine.

In my own idea and my own personal diagnoses of what and who I am…I always see this following part as the starting point.

So this is the part I tell you about the ‘incident’

When I was around fifteen I accidentally killed a cat…It was sick and all weird looking and I thought to myself…Something needs to be done about a cat like that and…While experimenting with how I could readjust his unkind features, I poked his eyes out and watched him bleed to death. Wasn’t because I was fucked up or anything…It was because I couldn’t do anything to save him and you try taking a cat with bleeding eyes to an adult…That just screams serial killer and I grew up watching shit like that. You know…Reading it in the news how psychos love to play mind games and shit? None of the names in the paper ever were magnificent enough for the attention they were getting and that boils my blood even today.

Though that’s not the point…The point is, Julia helped me bury the cat and never spoke of it again. She even slid into my bed the very night and held me after we fucked. I don’t really remember when that whole thing started…Only that it did and never stopped.

I would often place my hand on her lips with the excuse of my parents hearing us so I could recreate that beautiful baby face going red with no oxygen, even though I suspect she herself knew and knows I like it that way as she asked me to do it this one time when we were alone. Everything was perfect…Till Jackson.

The fucking amazing Jackson stealing away everything that was mine and one day? She comes back home saying it’s ‘wrong’ and we shouldn’t anymore. What the fuck kind of excuse is that? Of course it’s wrong and forbidden and you shouldn’t! But with our shitty parents? My ever absent father and my whore mother? We were all we had! She could not do that me and I wouldn’t allow it but for the first time instead of being mad at her I was…Upset. This liquid kept building inside and I couldn’t do anything to help it, it was disgusting. It was like…I couldn’t look at her,  I couldn’t breathe. How could she just change her mind about loving me? Am I that hard to love?

Then I just lost it.

I didn’t care for her wanting me anymore. I couldn’t let go and so I didn’t and she couldn’t really do anything about it.

I liked hurting her but I never meant to hurt her…I loved her and she betrayed me. This is how she betrayed me :

I spent MONTHS and MONTHS working on a plan to get rid of Jackson and the conclusion I came to was simple. I had to kill him otherwise he wouldn’t go away. I waited and waited and waited and waited some more till the time was right and I did. Slashed his throat and made it look like a satanic sacrifice.

Oh and I cut off his balls and made a necklace out of it and put it around his neck which strangely turned me on so bad that I couldn’t wait for Julia so I just masturbated  while waiting for the glues to dry.

I made a public thing out of it as well, it was a gift. It was a love song…My love song for Julia. For how much I loved her and how much I could do for her…

Of course the media is too blinded by their own belief system that considered it a narcissistic act and call for attention. I mean…I do love the attention and I do deserve it but…I didn’t kill Jackson to get media coverage. I did it for Julia..

And I filmed it too…Didn’t know why at the time since I’m very careful with what I’m doing but I did it anyhow.

In return? When she saw the paper and saw that I left her the stones we colored together in secret? Instead of thanking me she refuses to acknowledge the fact that / I / killed him! She didn’t even believe me when I said it and I had to SHOW her the film so she’d believe me!

And obviously…She wasn’t grateful at all. She looked at me like she was disgusted. Like she hated me…Like she was my mother. She has that look on her face…That look my mother does…I hate my mother.

That’s when I started really wanting to inflict pain on her. I hated her. I slapped her, I beat her, I forced her to have sex with me and the most amazing thing above all? I made her watch.

Julia was no longer someone I loved, she was someone I need to hunt, and in my quest for finding myself I found that…She needed to see everything I did.

I hate animals…I never touched them. I know it seems funny not going the path every psycho does but I guess I’m just different. I started with humans. With girls...Pretty girls.

I filmed it all. Every single one of them and I have a collection.

When I moved out, I made sure to position the camera where you could see the girl but not entirely me and with her hands tied behind her back and a razor in my hand, I’d fuck them from behind and slash their throats the way I wanted and in the end? Post Julia the collection, always letting her know that I am there and will be there.

Later on I moved to sending them to the victim’s family which by the way they can’t and never have tracked back to me for which you can say I am pretty smug.

Anyways…

I have so much more to say but…My hand is hurting and the nurse keeps walking outside so I’ll have to hide this away.

I’ll tell you how the hell I got here later.