When I was young, I always knew that I was a unique individual. I didn't exactly know what separated me from the rest of society, but I knew something was special about me.
While I was walking down the suburban footpath with my best friends, I started to experience a hatred for them. I can't say where it originated from, because I honestly have no idea. It started with me expressing my new hatred through glares and stares, but the hate started to continuously build throughout my body. I discontinued any communication my friends and I also proceeded to not attend any classes at my school. Heck, I didn't even see the school gates for half a year.
I started thinking malicious thoughts. I thought about beating all of my old colleagues to their deaths, one by one with my fists. I tried everything I could, but these thoughts never escaped my mind. Although, I'll admit, I loved the thought of me breaking their jaws and tearing out their teeth from their squishy gums.
After two gruelling years, I was ready to take action towards one of my old friends. After my sixteenth birthday, I was ready to display my "affectionate thoughts" towards one of my former colleagues. I arranged for him and I to meet at the local park. When my eyes spotted him in the distance, I decided to pursue my dream and I made my way towards him.
Without hesitation, I struck his temple with a strong right hook. He was knocked unconscious in one steady strike and, from there, things got a bit messy. I grabbed him by the neck; the fingers of my hand digging deep into his throat. Then, I proceeded to strike his jaw. I continued to pummel his face until my knuckles turned black and his facial features were unrecognisable. I remember grabbing his brittle jaw and slowly ripping it away from his beautiful face. It was a lot like taking off a shoe; a bit of resistance at first, but when I got past that I was able to tear out the jaw; muscle, skin and bone.
It was only after that I realised I had a small army of policeman aiming their firearms at me. I didn't bother running away, I did what I needed to do. When the policemen held me down ground and started placing handcuffs around my wrists, I started gazing towards his majestic face. The aroma that escaped from the muscle and flesh was overwhelming; I just wanted more and more of it.
I am now in the Mental Examination Room inside of a mental institution. I am required to document my feelings during that assault. So there it is.
My name is Thomas Anderson. I am sixteen years of age and I have been informed I have...
Written by FlippyColon3