Day 1 First Writing

"I was sick, sick unto Death..."
What am I doing? Will anyone even read this? It is, I suppose, irrelevant. This blog shall serve as a virtual diary. I can't risk these words being found by committing them to paper. I have made that mistake two times, too many. Both times I recieved unwanted attention. And criminal charges. My mind is a scary place for the weak. I remember hearing these words exactly from a concerned party. "What you wrote on those papers gave us a look into your mind and it is disturbing." I am an introvert. Though capable of great and successful extroversion. If I see something to be gained from it. But I generally don't. My mind needs constant stimulation. If not by drugs or sex, then by writing this. Unfortunately, to get drugs and sex, you need to know the right people and be their friend. Few people exist who would call me their friend. Fewer, still, that I call mine. These blogs will probably sound similar to the statements of a suicidal bloke, or a rampage killer. Furchtet euch, nicht. I would not do something so dramatic. Words like these are everyday statements. I am as venerable as a 90 year old monk. I am, however, only a young man. Not even 20 yet. A lengthy digression I shall conclude. I am not insane. Not a la mode at least. I am extremely intelligent and rational. My mind does lack certain emotional faculties. I never get sad or anxious except from one thing, and I rarely get happy. I don't feel guilt, empathy or compassion. I am callous. I will eventually share a story with you to give background, but not until I move beyond this introduction. I care for none except one, and even I am not sure if it will last or is genuine. I hope it is. If not, then I am truly sorry Madame Malevolence.  I was first called Sociopath at age 12. By my own mother no less. I looked it up and the amount of shared traits is scary. Every one. I honestly don't know the difference between that and Psychopath. Perhaps they are just euphamisms. That is the only time I will reference either of the words or disorder in that manner. This is about me not mental illness. I have never lived with anyone who I did not want to kill. I can idley shift to thinking about it, or even escalate to planning it. If someone tries setting up boundaries or making rules that in any way restrict me. A furious state of ire and hatred emerge. How dare someone so pathetic attempt to limit me. And I begin to think of the most evil thoughts that could ever be concieved. I suppose it goes without saying I enjoy cruelty. I hate authority. I can put myself in a submissive soldier-like state where I focus on doing nothing but what I am told, but if orders were given that conflicted with my pleasure, I would be as previously stated. I would make them angry or sad and enjoy it. I like anger more than sadness; There is more energy in it. It is more fun and exciting. I view myself as different from most people. While I enjoy not being a pathetic human, being what I am brings me no happiness. I am just as much a victim to myself as my actual victims. I am a victim to the reprisal for the pain I caused. And even if I knew reprisal was guarunteed, I wouldn't alter course. So there you have it: me in a nutshell. I will put more on this in the future so you perverts can masturbate to my posts or do whatever people who waste time reading other people's blogs do. Auf wiedersehn scheissekopfs.