"I do not hurt others because they differ from myself, I hurt them because I can see myself in them. I do not kill myself because to kill myself would not be an end to myself, but an end to my existence. I’ve often felt like a stranger unto myself and others, in opposition to everything. I longed to see myself reflected in the world to validate and give tangibility to my existence, to make me less of an anomaly. I find now that there are no differences, no anomalies, but one non-sensible vortex of thick smoke. I look at those people around me and I see their lungs full with it, I see them choking. I put bullets in their lungs and look to see what comes out, only to find that we’re part of the fabric of it all. I can destroy the person but their energy remains as if to taunt me. Still, the smoke has been rearranged. Its color has changed. It has become thicker. I speculate if this unknown road I take into the darkness can change the smoke, make it so thick that it takes a solid form and falls into nothingness, too heavy for the vortex to pull. In that way I can rebel, in that way I can change the nature of the smoke, in that way I can break the shackles. When the body decomposes, it becomes part of the Earth. What happens to identity? What happens to the ashes of the essence of life? When I drain it from others, do I absorb it? Are they reduced to memory, do they disappear? Surely this is the force that grows me with each kill.
In being observed, in my dark secret being revealed, I seek connection. It’s a connection I can’t have. I’m too far gone. You creatures of habit revolve about in your circles of friends, circles of action, circles of thoughts, all inter connected, pulled between evolution and regression, and often left stagnant in progress, only twisting and turning in rotation. Part of you must envy me. I have become familiar with the look of those who know, they sink backwards into themselves where there is no light and hit a sharp edge, and in the pool of the blood that drips down from them, that they feel drip down their being, in that dark pool there is a reflection, and in that reflection they see in themselves what they see in me. The spinning of their circles comes to a halt, in fact, their circles are shattered, and they are left only with broken pieces of what they’ve been, fragments that they then cling to tightly, tightening their grip while the rough edges of those broken pieces slice through their palms, painfully escaping them, never to be what they were again. Those terrified souls revert themselves, living in those circles they’ve set for themselves until they become descriptive of their identity. But I am different. They run from chaos and crave its freedom, while I embody chaotic evolution. Every moment for me is different, every action different, if not physical then metaphysically. My life is more electric than any chair you could strap me in. Kill me and my body will be dead, but my energy cannot be destroyed, and my part of the smoke will be so thick that the vortex will choke, and even when I settle, the absence of me after having felt me will bring a yearning for destruction, and from the ashes of that destructive fire I will rise again, in another body, without knowledge of what I used to be, but left with an even deeper emptiness to fill."