Confessions of a Teenage Sociopath
A question came to me today: why do I write? I’ve never been particularly sure. I thought I just wrote because it’s boring here in juvie, but I actually enjoy it a bit, kind of like I enjoy the dopehead guy retching in the bathroom stall because of withdrawal. I detest the writings I turn in for class, no matter how good they are, mainly because I detest writing for someone else.
Actually, that’s a lie. All writing is for somebody else: keeping a diary secret is just about the dumbest idea I’ve ever heard of. If your thoughts are personal, they should stay inside your head. No, we speak so that others can listen. But the type of listening is important. In class, they listen because they think they’re better than you, which is ridiculous. If they were all that good at writing they’d be rich and powerful, like Charles Dickens or JK Rowling.
So I write for a simple reason. So that when I have a stranglehold over your childrens’ most basic needs, they can read my Mein Kampf. So that kids in classrooms everywhere will have to slave over my trash flicks instead of Shakespeare’s. So that when I die, they read my diary, not Anne Frank’s.
I thought to myself, what’s the first thing people look at in writing? The title, of course. That’s why you’re reading this. It was a stroke of genius, wasn’t it? Confessions of a Teenage Sociopath. And now you’re waiting for me to tell you about how, as a child, I used to dissect cats alive to watch the way their eyes move. (Trick question: I still do, or did until the security officer at school caught me with Angela). Well, just wait. I’ll get to that eventually.
But the title is misleading. I’m not confessing anything. You can only confess guilt, and I don’t feel guilty. I’ve never done anything fun to anyone who was actually worth respecting. Angela, you say? Like I said, nobody who was actually worth respecting.
You should have seen the way she looked up at me from the chair I’d tied her too. You’d have thought she was in a vat of acid from the way her face was all scrunched up.
Man, why didn’t I think of acid before?
Anyway, she always wore these neat little friendship bracelets. I’m not really sure what happened to them. But she didn’t like the new ones I gave her. That was another stroke of genius, you know. Who knew those pianos that all the gay music kids fiddle with were actually good for something? I sure cinched those new bracelets tight though. She probably would have gotten scars by now if she wasn’t rotting in St. Mark’s Cemetery right now.
People are so stupid, you know? Nobody even noticed when I nicked the yardsticks from the physics room. And you can do a lot with pretty simple tools. I mean, who knew how much she’d scream just from having a little thin piece of wood shoved all the way inside her? Not that I got all the way in, because I’m pretty sure that would have killed her pretty quick, so I stopped. Corpses really aren’t that fun, you know.
Everybody thought she was so great. “Angela gets straight A’s. Angela plays varsity volleyball. Angela has so many friends. Angela can do five backflips before she lands, Angela has fourteen doctorate degrees, Angela fucking walks on water.” And all the while, I’m here, and I actually can walk on water. I’ve done it. You can make giant shoes and then Archimedes holds you up. I thought of that. Angela didn’t. She never was that great.
She was such a bitch in the end, too. She had a razor in her stupid little purse, so I shaved her armpits for her. I kept shaving, too, all the way to the bone. I’d never done that before. I wish I’d had more experience so I could have cut the whole arm off and showed it to her before she fainted.
Is that even possible? Probably not. Worth a shot, though.
Anyway, then whats-his-face came into the room and hit me in the head with something instead of minding his own damned business. And now I’m here.
But I’m going to get out. The guards are all dumb here. Probably dumb everywhere. I’m a lot smarter than them. And I’m going to be President someday. Just you wait.
Edited by Rafv Nin IV, 14 November 2010 - 07:53 AM.
