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Toward Me

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You came to me. You're not supposed to be near me, yet you came. I can't say that it was shocking, for you do stuff like this all the time. It's unbelievable really. To think I spent so many years doing horrible, awful things, yet you still choose me.

You worship me, not intentionally. Every second you spend doing something you know that is wrong, I smile. Even if it's something as simple as stealing from the cookie jar, I get giddy with excitement. I feel a rush of adrenaline every time I do something naughty, but so do so many other psychopaths. You inspire them, control them, and when they finally snap, cause chaos and kill people, you go and think that it all has to do with video games or TV, yadda, yadda, yadda. You don't know the half of it.

My, let's call them friends, my actual friends practically worship me. You know what they do, cut themselves and such, you cast them out, and I take them in. You may say that's nice, but they turn into those psychopaths that you refuse to take credit in creating. Like that Jeff the killer fellow, what a great guy, he's one of my personal favorites actually. A shame as to what happened to him, but I hear he has made a full recovery.

I enjoy the maniacal and sinister. I like reading horror stories of creatures in the night. Dracula, the Wolf Man, Slenderman, but these are not in the least bit frightening to me. People fear me, my insane ways, my devilish grin, my good looks, all in the look and way of a killer. I don't follow some ritualistic cult nor do I kill for some population control method. I kill for the satisfaction of killing. As blood drips from my fingers, the dragon in me dances with joy. I don't do it on my own though, but I won't tell you how just yet.

You all think you're some goody two shoes, especially you old folk. You believe that this new generation's minds are ruined by video games and rated MA movies. You believe these are what's causing the downfall of humanity when really, you've done far more evil deeds then these brats ever will. I laugh when you try to escape my grasp, but in the end, you know it's too late. Your corpse will fall to the ground, shriveled up and rotten. You will then be forgotten, you think you actually made a difference in this world when really, as long as I'm around, all your little pathetic acts of artificial kindness mean nothing.

You all almost make me sick. You follow me, do every little sin you can think of. Then dismiss it as if nothing was wrong. You refuse to take blame for your actions, always trying to pass on blame to someone else. You claim you're perfect, you would do nothing wrong, when really you're the worst of the bunch. You create all your mental individuals and cast them out of your society, and when they kill, you assume them to be evil. Still wondering how exactly I kill people besides doing it myself? I am your evil, I lie in the farthest corner of your mind. I'm that fear that grows in you, I work through your evil men and women, causing them to destroy and kill. You think them to be the devil, please don't take that title from me. You're supposed to worship someone else, the one who protects you and saves you, yet you come toward me, even though I am what you fear, that mentally unstable sinful killer you all despise, the one you associate all evil with. Then again it is in your wickedly evil nature.

For you are Human.

And I am the Devil.

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