I was eating my crudely made meal in the evening while I was pondering on what I should do with his inedible parts. I tried to organize it as much as possible with the trash bags. organs, bones, some weird bits like the nails and hair, how annoying that was. I wish people would shave their entire bodies.


    In fact I wish body hair didn''t exist in the first place. didn''t evolution get rid of unwanted traits? So why do humans have to bother with body hair when it serves no purpose? They dress themselves in clothes. They cut their nails every time they grow. Why can''t we get rid of them already? oh how i wish genetic engineering was advanced enough to do so.


    i was thinking of using the leftover pieces as firewood, it''s winter after all. That should be good. I finally came to this conclusion after finishing my meal. lászló was always very fit and lean, his meat was very chewy too. as my first act of cannibalism that wasn''t my own body, it was definitely an odd flavour.


    The next morning, as I arrived at school, I let out a sigh. in the front row, lászló was sitting there like always. I already knew this would happen, but it still makes me a little depressed. sometimes i wonder if i keep doing this but there has yet to be any consequences for my actions in this matter specifically. These people need to learn manners anyways. Yes, yes, how else will the animal learn?


    I have always found it odd how humans never learn anything, not really. I don''t expect them to learn anything from my punishments of course, that''s a given. At the first attempt I was hoping if I engraved certain ideas into their minds before killing them would leave some kind of mark the next day, but I quickly found out that this doesn''t work.


    "morning f****.” He stared at me. those eyes showing disgust and ego, a facial expression hiding some excitement. how odd, that man finds comfort in the hatred towards others. The lack of care always confused me. humanity''s greatest achievements were earned with intelligence, adaptability, and cooperation. Why do they then, as if spitting on the graves of our ancestors, insist on normalizing anti-social behaviour? Do you know the answer? I wish I did. I wish for many things.


    It was a painfully long day, but it reached its end like any other. That day I decided against murder. I wasn''t in the mood. I was feeling gloomy, and at the same time touch starved. I decided after school to go to this little coffee shop I have seen a lot 2 years ago. The coffee tasted good. I don''t really have a way to describe it. It tasted like coffee. I didn''t have an orgasm from it, and I didn''t spit it out. its taste became static after the first sip. I never understood why people were obsessed with taste and the likes. it became static regardless. Of course, in this regard too, I must be the odd one in the eyes of you. After all, I am not human, not really.


    Finally, a young girl who looked pleasing to me arrived in the shop. her hair was a little messy but i always liked that. you can brush and braid your hair as much as you like but you will only look like someone you are not. Humans always had an obsession with fitting in, even if it meant doing things that made no sense. When I was young I never understood it. The adults around me always told me that I will understand when I get older. That was only partly true. She also had another thing I liked about her. She had eyes that screamed desperation.


    Once the young girl got her coffee and sat down, I took my own coffee and walked up to her table. "May I sit?" I asked, seeing her confusion and unwillingness. Of course, the shop was quite crowded, my table was already occupied after I just got up. She nodded slightly and I sat down.


    "My name is Attila." I said with a smile. It was a forced smile but I am really good at faking expressions. smiles are very easy to do. you should never smile with your mouth. always with your eyes. Humans show a lot with their eyes. Maybe that''s why they like eye contact. Maybe that''s why I hate it.


    "Petra." she is obviously weirded out by me. if course she is. i am not sure why exactly though. i know that it is generally not acceptable to walk up to someone randomly and start a conversation. aren''t humans social creatures though? what''s so wrong with that? am i really the weird one here? i wonder how i should strike up a conversation. i don''t really know how to have small talk. i don''t have an issue with it though. small talk is important. it''s a relaxing way to pass time, without having to think about painful things. a way to get to know someone on a more surface level. do you really know every part of an ocean if you have only seen the deepest parts of it? a good conversation starter though, one could be the old classic "do you come here often?".


    "yes. it''s on the way." no follow up question? Who''s the bizarre mimic now? Of course I have made this mistake way too many times. Usually my brain takes a while to think of a proper sentence that I can say. My mind is cluttered with unfinished sentences and words with no meaning. how could one think fast when it comes to talking, unless they are working on muscle memory? I need to think of something to respond with quickly, before the silence becomes too long. ''not so much for me. i think- i have tho- i have been thinking about coming here for a long time, just never really had the time for it''.


    "not so much for me. I have been thinking about coming here for a long time, just never really had the time for it." As time passed, I managed to get her to warm up to me. Once we found some common interests, it was easy enough. I was lucky enough that she enjoyed things I knew about. My hobbies and interests are not really common. I am an odd and bizarre person. further proving to the world that I am indeed not human, not really.


    Since I lived outside the city, she was nice enough to let me in her home for the evening. her family was not home. I find her weird trust in me convenient, but at the same time very much abnormal. Who would let someone inside their house after just a few hours of conversation? how desperate one must be, i really shouldn''t be doing what i am doing. life will exact the price for it after all.


    The main event was nice. i was very much worried of under performing, but it seems she didn''t quite know what she was doing either. low expectations are my best friend. Once it was done, we twisted our bodies together, before I took my leave. I felt melancholic while walking the dark streets of this city of dust and smells. After an hour of riding the train, I was finally home again.


    Before heading to bed and ending the day there, I decided to smoke a cigarette. I don''t really like cigarettes. They taste bad and are annoying to deal with as the ash constantly gets everywhere. I very much enjoy the calm it brings me though. my mind that is constantly overwhelming me finally meets eternal silence. Unfortunately for me, like all of my victims, even my mind comes back eventually.


    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.


    Yes, truly a blessing and a curse. I cannot kill someone forever. Once the corpse leaves my sight, they come back to life, as if nothing ever happened. even their blood disappears completely. I enjoy getting rid of their bodies sometimes though, despite being a meaningless task. It''s weird how all activities found fun by humans eventually turn out to be meaningless. this is something even i relate to.


    When I killed my first victim, Levente, I buried his corpse in a nearby forest. When he came back to life, among the many thoughts and feelings that made my stomach turn, I also realized that I quite enjoyed the process. There was something calming about the process of turning a flesh monolith of hate into a haven of mold and parasites. a symbol of the goddess of rot, and my personal manifesto about the paradox of humanity. the audacity to call me bizarre, the ignorance to not realize when one''s wrong. These among others are what fuel my hatred towards the apathetic modern man. how vile can one get, and how they compete over it.


    The next day, school was quite easy to get through. those who dislike me and i dislike were absent. In the right column, only a female classmate of mine and I was there. She was definitely human, but also someone who''s company I enjoyed more than the others''. she wasn''t weird or anything. She was just more compassionate. She sometimes talked about her issues to me and I tried to give my view on them. Despite what you think, I am not actually an advocate for violence. I don''t believe violence actually solves anything. murder is to put an end to someone that refuses to change. it''s not a solution, but rather destroying the problem instead.


    The day was a breeze, and I felt no resentment. my soul was calm, if i even had one. I do believe in souls, but I always doubt the supernatural. Even as a child, christianity always felt wrong to me. If god exists, I wish I was him. ''but...'' I hear you ask ''what about the fact that people come back to life after you kill them?''. While that''s a valid question, I don''t think it''s supernatural. I think it''s something my mind subconsciously does. What if I am hallucinating the murders? That would be convenient. my hands would truly be clean then. The idea of murder is not a sin, after all.


    I really hate groups of people in public. They are loud and brave. confident that they have an advantage if someone were to tell them to quiet themselves. I know this of course because I had the chance to experience being in groups. I understand what they feel, therefore I understand their actions. There is something I do not understand, though. Every time I hear laughing, whispering, or giggling, my mind immediately assumes that it is about me. I am unsure what this is. an inferiority complex? narcissism? it''s probably neither.


    narcissism is simply the obsession of the self, and that very much fits me. I don''t see an issue with this though. I can also set myself aside sometimes in a selfless act of kindness. The reasoning behind it is simple. to fit in and to feel good about myself. it is the rewards of being a social creature after all. though I am not human, not really.


    A group of teenagers were sitting right in front of me on the train. They were laughing and crying. Loud and obnoxious, it makes you wonder if they ever had a moment of silence in their lives. What made my skin crawl most was that they noticed me, and my paranoia was in fact, not just paranoia this time. Not that i doubt myself. I am right about a lot of things. I have thought of keeping notes on how many times I am wrong and how many times I am right, but people already view me as some kind of newly discovered species.


    The small group of adult sized toddlers were fascinated by my posture. I had one leg resting on my other leg, while i was reading a book. Such a queer pose must be some kind of social crime that I have yet to learn. I do wonder if I am autistic at times like these, but it''s not like I can''t tell any social cues. I do not trust therapists and psychiatrists. I don''t need someone to tell me what to do to fix my issues. I am able to recognize my flaws and act against them with success most of the time. There are a few things I find hard to actually fix, but I can find an alternative temporary fix usually.


    The book I was reading was The Orange Clockwork by Anthony Burgess. i love this story. I find Alex to be very relatable. I have done many horrible things in my life, and I definitely paid for them. a price is always exacted for what fate bestows. Sometimes, life feels unfair, but this is most likely just the desire and instinct to avoid pain at all costs. Unfortunately, unlike with physical exercise, our bodies don''t really endorphins for a job well done after a week of depressed self loathing.


    When I got home I decided to brush my hair. It has been annoying me a lot lately. Long hair fits my taste for myself, but it has a lot of downsides. as i looked at my face i felt my stomach turn. I wouldn''t say that I am ugly, there are people less fortunate than me in this department, but I can''t call myself pleasing to the eye either. My jawline is noticeable, but my face is round and covered in impurities. pores clogged and overflowing with pus, that i keep cleaning out but to no avail. they always fill right back up. my lower face has some facial hair growing. something I especially despise. Up close, they look like dark maggots, crawling their way in or out of my skin, like parasites. My lips are dry and bright red from blood. I have a bad habit of chewing off the skin from them.


    I like the taste of my body. This is something I know is very odd about me. I never told anyone about this, as I figured they would look at me in disgust if I did. I understand why, I know that cannibalism is quite taboo for humans. My eyes are the only part of my face that I truly like, especially when I do not wear my glasses. eyes are a window to the soul, and it is my only undeniable proof that i have one. an iris of dark brown, half of it covered by tired eyelids. If I open them up a bit more, they look like the eyes of a kid with joy and curiosity in his heart. I even have a little shine in them. Very beautiful eyes indeed. I am very proud of them.


    The only other person at home was my father that day. I don''t like my father. He''s not a bad person, but he''s not a good person either. He has lived a long life and survived many things. A body of will and strength. Sometimes i wish I inherited that strength from him, but I don''t dwell on it too much. He''s an alcoholic and very painful to talk to when he is drunk. Even when he is sober, I have a hard time talking to him without feeling weird. I am unsure if it''s his personality or just the fact that he''s old, but talking to him always felt very painful. I am rarely understood by others, but his lack of understanding upsets me.


    I never tried killing him despite this. family is very important to me after all. Excluding my father, they are the select few that truly understand me. Another was my old classmate from the first high school I went to. He had a similar childhood to me, which made it quite easy to get along with him. It felt like I finally found my people. He had his oddities that I didn''t quite understand though, like his need for self destruction, but I could get past this if it meant I could talk to someone like me. There was a time he was sick, and I spent the day talking to two of my other friends. While they got used to my weirdness and could hang out around me, I felt like I was talking to something that was only mimicking sentience. the issue probably with me, though. After all, I am not human, not really.


    The next day in school was very painful. I had a headache all day. I hate headaches. They are an unstoppable pain that appears both physically and mentally. it''s the ultimate attack on my senses. László wasn''t very keen on name calling me today though. my "friend" Mátyás says he''s a prick to everyone in general, but I can''t help feeling targeted sometimes. I decided to relieve some stress today. After school, I secretly followed László back home. It''s quite easy to blend into crowds when you spend most of your day trying to quietly disappear. After he opened the door to his house, I quickly took out a small tissue with some chloroform and pressed it near his face. You probably wonder how I got my hands on such a thing. Honestly… I do not remember. Once he was out, I disposed of the tissue before I inhaled anything I shouldn''t, and dragged his body inside his house.


    Once inside, I tied him to a chair in the kitchen with some tape I found, and decided to take a small detour to his fridge while I waited for him to wake up. I wasn''t too worried about the effects chloroform had on his body. either the cycle regenerates anything broken by it, or he might get a long lasting lesson in the end. Once he woke up, he yelled and tried to cuss at me through the tape. I wasn''t very amused. He does this every single time without missing a beat. Now that he was awake, it was time for me to go through the usual process.


    today, once the main event had reached its end with László''s last breath, I decided that instead of cleaning up the corpse, I would arrange his bits and pieces in the form of an occult ritual. I once read about how even still images can create detailed stories, and I felt inspired. Once I was done, I cleaned myself up a bit before taking my leave. My headache still persists, but I can only endure the pain.