I do not know how to explain this feeling inside of me. Though to be more correct, I would say this was the lack of a feeling. No, that does not feel right either. See, it escapes me this…thing. I think I first noticed it when I watched you, and others. Do not flatter yourself with my words; you were not the sole reason behind this revelation of mine. This epiphany into my self and the things that I feel and do not, the things I lacked, and the things that make me feel as broken as that old toy you tossed away. These are things that came from a divine presence that came into my life.
You would not understand, no body ever could and they would not even try. He told me so himself, that if I mentioned him that I would be judged. I have accepted that, and I have begun to search for my own answers – with his encouragement of course.
I studied you look I said, and others. It was so strange – every time you came close to another person you changed. Every time the two of you came close your lips would touch and the look on your faces was that of content. Still I felt estranged from those emotions; I would rather do something else. I would rather see the fear in your eyes as I drew a blade to your throat, and slid the cold steel down your warm skin.
Watch the life fade from your eyes as you bled out. These were the things I wished to do when I touched someone, not what you would like. It disgusts me that you people are this way. So entranced by one another despite how imperfect all of you are. How useless and unreliable all of you are, how physical everything was.
I may not understand your desire to touch, but I understood it took the place of emotions. Another thing only you and other people have, those things that make you feel bad for what you have done. I can only watch you and imagine what that must be like.
You find it hard to lie or steal, and hurting someone makes you feel as bad as they should feel. I do not understand this complex, to cause pain and then feel it yourself. When I killed my mother in her bed I felt nothing. I did not smile or cry, and I did not hesitate. I just continued to choke her until she stopped living, and then I went on with my life.
Why was this hard for all of you? I do not understand. Even then when I cut my father to pieces in the shed, his screams did not faze me. Your behavior is weird….and I do not understand it. I try to replicate these things, and I can not.
I tried bringing that boy home, but instead of touching me he only insulted me. Even then I did not feel like you may have, the rage did not draw me to kill him. No, I just wanted him to help me understand. I hit him and brought him home, I tied him up and still then he refused to help me. That’s when I placed the bag over his head and watched him die.
Still I felt nothing, nothing at all. Indifference actually – that is what I felt. Though it would be ironic for me to feel such a thing you know? It defeats the purpose of feeling nothing… of being indifferent. Still I tried to replicate what you felt and it failed. I even ran my fingers through his hair like I had seen some people too. Though him being dead, this caused no response – and that I did understand.


This confusion is unavoidable, and now I once again face the stones of the heathens who do not understand. I am being slandered in the news, every where I look I know that they talk about me. They call me by name and post my pictures with out me asking. These things are mean are they not? Why am I so different from the rest of you? Why do you have that feeling for me… that thing called hate.
Still I do not care; I just want to know what you all feel. I changed everything about myself by now, I look very different. People do not recognize me, but they talk about what I had done. They made it seem like I was doing something wrong, but I know I am not. My parents were helping me – and that boy was going to help me, but then he did not want too.
It is everyone who is abandoning me; no one wants to help me. Even this girl next door, she is always mean to me. Even then I do not feel anything, but still she seems so content with herself. She had even thrown things at me, and written things on my new house.
I thought maybe these kinds of actions would help me feel something; I just need to replicate them. So days later I waited for her to come home, hiding in the linen closet for her. I just waited for her to come home. When she did, she came up stairs and I surprised her. She screamed and ran away from me. I think I had surprised her, but she was faster then I thought she was so I grabbed a vase on the table and threw it at her head.
Then she stopped running away from me. Still I was scared she would leave me so I dragged her to the basement. She was covered in blood so I wiped her down with a cloth, which is what people did is it not? She seemed so scared of me still. Even after I had helped her she insulted me and said mean things to mean.
Then I felt it, my first feeling of something. My chest felt hurt and I did not like it. She made me feel like I would never get better, told me in fact that I never would. That people would come find me and kill me for being a monster. How could she say that to me? I went upstairs and grabbed a large knife and came back to her. I stabbed her several times until she stopped yelling at me.
Then I stabbed her bunch more times because she was ignoring me. I left the knife in her so that she could cut her self free later. The voice told me that I was a special girl and that I would only understand why I was different if I kept looking for answers. So I would.
While you live your life I sit there watching you from a distance. You have all these things that I do not, and you still will not help me. You just do not want me to be like you, and you want me to be alone. So I will make you help me if I must. When you are alone I will come and ask you for help, and you will help me. The voice told me this is what I should do and the voice only wants to help me. Why wont you?

__________________