Everyone I know thinks of me as a “good person”. I’ve been told I’m “sweet”. People like me; I don’t know why, and I don’t aim to make it happen, but it does.

My “good person” is a facade, a lie. Hell, I’m not even sure if I knew for sure what it actually MEANT to be a good person. I sometimes see myself as a monster. I sometimes daydream of being a serial killer.