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What is it about you that I can't stand? Is it my own self-loathing? What about all these morbid fantasies I have, the way I can so easily devise an exotic, different way to kill? I can think of a million! And, they're vivid. Wrenches, skulls, their finally meeting in a glorious display of bone shrapnel and hot, red vino. Gorgeous! But, will it ever come to fruition? I pray every day that it won't. I also hope that my feelings of disgust for most people whom I've only interacted with through class will fade away as I realize that everyone has their own story. What's the deal with these feelings? It must be because sometimes I find myself thinking about offing myself. Not as much as before, but it builds up and explodes. I think I'm avoiding it by creating these dastardly visions. I sometimes wish the mafia dream were still alive. I'd be a great enforcer, or maybe not. I'd probably fuck it up somehow and get too excited. But, it would be a run. Oh how they'd all be destroyed! I am the alpha and the omega! Fear me!