My Morbid Talk
My mood has taken a morbid turn. I've been watching too many Unsolved Mysteries, America's Most Wanted, Nancy Grace, Court Tv, and A&E crime specials. Too much of the news and Neil Entwistle. Men are always killing women. Men are always killing their girlfriends, their wives, their children. All these shows are the cause of my new, morbid bent--my new paranoia--it's all I watch. Did you know there are a speculated fifty loose serial killers in the United States? If they don't get you your husband will, anyway.
I get up in the middle of the night to make sure the door is locked. I dream I'm getting killed all the time. I'm looking for serial killers in the bushes while I take my dog out. I'm thinking about carrying a gun.
If I was in this state six months ago when my life was getting regularly threatened, I would have called the police. Maybe I still should. Already I have left lists of possible killers around for investigators to find and speculate upon. If I ever get somehow murdered, there are three people in danger of getting falsely convicted.
Any week now I'm moving across the country, anyway. There are new predators there, dark predators in dark clothes. I won't say where, since somebody could read this and follow me there and bury their malice with a bullet in the back of my head.
That's what I really don't want. To never even know I'm dead.
I get up in the middle of the night to make sure the door is locked. I dream I'm getting killed all the time. I'm looking for serial killers in the bushes while I take my dog out. I'm thinking about carrying a gun.
If I was in this state six months ago when my life was getting regularly threatened, I would have called the police. Maybe I still should. Already I have left lists of possible killers around for investigators to find and speculate upon. If I ever get somehow murdered, there are three people in danger of getting falsely convicted.
Any week now I'm moving across the country, anyway. There are new predators there, dark predators in dark clothes. I won't say where, since somebody could read this and follow me there and bury their malice with a bullet in the back of my head.
That's what I really don't want. To never even know I'm dead.