For the record..

This is not a confession, this is not an apology, this isn't anything really. Just a day by day account through my eyes. I'm not going to tell you my real name. I'm sure all of you "at home" psychiatrists are going to start following this and diagnose why I do what I do. So just save all of the of the speculation. It's as if all humans have this tiny little killswitch inside that regulates and controls the most carnal of our actions. The urge to kill. Unfortunately, especially for the 52 people that have come before her, my killswitch doesn't exactly function properly. It's like when you haven't eaten for quite sometime.. you get this ache in the pit of your stomach, this dull throbbing pain.. yea it's like that. Anyway this brings us to where I'm at now. I've found number 53. There isn't some meticulous routine that I go through in picking my victims. At first it was just simple opportunity; Transients, Prostitutes, Hitchhikers, mostly people society had just thrown away and forgotten about. It was easy to conceal a body when nobody was looking for them. Then I got more brazen. Started taking things a little more seriously, toying with law enforcement a bit. Just for giggles. A human life is an interesting thing. Every single one of us take it for granted. Whether people like to admit it or not. And most don't realize what they have until those last few vital seconds before it's taken from them. You can see it in there eyes. They are reduced back to the most helpless forms in those few precious seconds. Some beg for mercy.. Like I give a fuck. Some just sit there in shock from what's about to take place. I don't exactly stick to a certain formula when I kill. Keeps the authorities on their toes.  Well now with number 53, she was just at the wrong place at the wrong time. She cut me off on the Freeway actually. Funny how 7 little digits on the back of your vehicle can reveal so much. It was strange tho. As if she was running from something. Like she didn't even notice I was there. I've been watching her for a few weeks now. Just biding my time. She looks sick, and she gets increasingly worse every time I see her. Almost as if she's going through chemotherapy or something of that nature. I also found out that she has a child. I usually don't like to deal with such "collateral damage" but I've already invested to much time into it to let this one slip.
I'm going back out to watch tonight. Until next time.

Me.