Art to Die For

There is nothing quite like the adrenaline rush of knowing that you hold someone’s life in your hands. It’s so easy to let them slip through the cracks between your fingertips; so easy to smile as they descend into their own personal hell.
It is so easy to hide these disturbing feelings, these disgusting fantasies from everyone that surrounds you. If you’ve been doing this as long as I have, then the mask you wear is perfect to hold back the darkness underneath. I present myself in a way that ensures everyone around me believes that I am a good person. The mask I wear is the real me. Oh, how I giggle when I’m alone. When I think about all of those idiots I fooled into thinking I actually cared about their health. I couldn’t care less about someone else’s health. In fact, I’m the reason why so many people have disappeared into the night. I’m the reason why mothers hold their children tightly and the reason why fathers can’t seem to fall asleep in fear that their family is next. Well, another family is going to wake up with one person less.