It was an unseasonably warm day that
everyone seemed to be enjoying. No matter how horrid or distasteful
it seems to others, it brought me peace of mind knowing that all the
people at that park that day were there for me to pick from.
How can anyone be so cold as to simply
kill? How much more evil must someone be to enjoy killing? People see
what I do as evil. They see me as sick, twisted, broken, in need of
something as well as evil. I do not see myself necessarily as evil.
None of us are saints.
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