Good sweet Horus I think I’m ready to murder my English teacher.  I spent fourteen bloody friggin hours on my Macbeth Essay and I got sixty five percent on it, yet I got eighty on my outline! A friend of mine, who copied my bibliography, got three out of ten on it, while I received zero… And they’re the exact same one! ARRRRG!!!!! It just pisses me off to no end, I mean, is it really my fault that I’m not willing to put up with her **** and speak my mind. So she docks my marks whenever she gets the chance. That kind of prejudice just pisses me off so much I could scream! She’s always going on about being fair and so on and so fourth, but she’d the most racist prejudiced person I’ve even met.  

I find myself getting so angry, but I don’ want to continue like this, if I get too angry my emotions just, stop and I’m not normal anymore.  It’s like my life happens in third person after that breaking point. I know I’m not like other people, I know I could kill and that knowledge weighs heavily on me. I know I could choke someone and watch the life drain from their body, and it doesn’t really bother me. Is murder really such a bad thing? Sometimes I don’t think so, mostly because I know I’m capable of it.  Call me an inhuman wretch if you like, but it makes me, happy. Death is so much simpler than life is, I prefer the company of animals to people, and I think I’m going to jam a metal pipe through my teachers head. People like her don’t deserve an open casket funeral.

I must be a truly horrible person to think these things, but the man in my dream say’s it’s alright, that it doesn’t matter. I wish that I could fall asleep forever sometimes, fall into a world where no one hates me for thinking these things. I’ve been dreaming a lot lately, I think my entire life might be one long nightmare, because I’m starting to hear the man when I’m awake now, and that can’t be a good sign.