Unspoken Dialogue

I have doubt that I could find a reason to live. When I think of those happy memories that use to be part of my life; they are photos with no meaning. A picture without reason of being.

Yeah I had seen better days than these, but hey it was another day to mark off on the calendar. The time seemed to pass faster if I was to fill it with useless things. Walking passed strangers in the streets cleared my head of my own life. These people had lives and places to go. They walked passed me and never gave me a thought. Only if they accidentally bumped into me. Then they would give me a kind "Sorry" or "Excuse me.". Other than that I am just another object in their way.

These walks clear my head from thoughts that just wont go away. It's my own self healing technique.Sometimes I find myself mumbling words even to myself they seem to be incoherent. Maybe the thoughts in my head are too much for my mind to handle. So they must come through my mouth; I think too loud.

I feel like sometimes I am the only one that see things no one else sees. I remember this one time I saw a small bird looking for food. It was hopping around looking for something to make a nest I guess. As I looked closer at the bird I noticed it had only one foot. Something must have happened to it but still it managed to get around. I could not but help feel normal by doing nothing to help the small bird. I felt like I was fitting into everyone else's world around me.

You cannot help but think of god on these days. Has he put you onto this world to only worry about yourself. I never believed in turning the other cheek. I did kind of believe doing onto others as they do unto you. If anyone was to wrong me I was to make sure to wrong them. Does God really exist? I was not sure but I am sure if he did he had fun watching me.

During all this thinking I had lost myself in this city. Not sure exactly where I have ended up. Why exactly I brought myself to where I have ended up. As I looked out a bit in front of me. I saw something that might answer my question. A small boy; looked like he was around 8 years old maybe. Standing in front of a cafe. He had a look of calm in his face. I knew he must have been lost for the way he paced in front of the store like he was waiting for someone but not sure on their return. I knew he did not know any of the faces around him. It is that same feeling you get on your first day of school in a new town. Not sure how everyone will accept your presence. It was things like this that others did not notice.

I did not waste anytime asking the young boy if he needed any help. His response was that of not sure if he should say the truth. Just like everyone else when they are asked for help. He felt not afraid in my act of kindness to help him. He was lost; his Mother and him got separated some time back in the busy street with people coming and going. He remembered that they went to this cafe earlier today. So he felt coming here he might find his Mother.
I told the boy if he was to come with me I would find help for him. He held my hand and walked with me. Holding his hand I thought how it might be to have a son of my own. Walking these streets on these days would not feel so lonely. I thought about how maybe I would find happiness taking care of someone. Life might have different meaning. A total new person.

A part of me really wanted to find this boys Mother. Another part said never regret the things you are made to do. See, what I do takes skill just like any musician, painter, or sculptor. It is just not as well respected as those. Finding those that will be victims is an art. I know that I do not do this to be respected or loved. If anything it is to make you glad to still be alive.

Taking him into my house I asked him to take of his clothes. He was by all means over powered by now. He was tangled into my spider web allowing me to do what I wanted now. I had him laid out on my bed as I began to take pictures of him. Screaming out he knew that his death would come sooner than he wanted. The knife was only there to threaten at first. That is when the thoughts played into my head. "Letting him go, will only bring you closer to being caught." "You know what they do to guys like you in prison" "They wont understand what you are doing to these children.". It was then that the knife was not there to threaten anymore.

Killing was unreal at this point. It was just another thing that seemed like nothing now. You never thought about what it took anymore to do it. It was just done, like turning off a t.v. with a remote. No thought on how easy it was to turn it off or on. Just something else that seemed like nothing else important.

My love for this came after all the horror. It was when the body became lifeless. It was when I had to dispose of the body. I would drive these children out to a river and set their body into the river hoping they would be washed cleaned of my filth. The body drifted away with the current. As he floated down stream he was washed from my memory. Never to be thought of again.