Psychopath

Dear Diary,

I like to start with the outcome of the day. I can’t sleep on this noisy plane so I thought  I would write out my day. My boyfriend was arrested, I hid in the woods for 5 hours, my mom does not know where I am, and I’m on a plane as I write this wondering where I should go. Oh, and I set my room on fire before I left. Of course, I called the fire department immediately after lighting it but I suppose my room must have been completely destroyed. At least I hope so or else they will be onto me soon. If my mom doesn’t keep her mouth shut they definitely will be. 

It started at 9 am in the morning. My boyfriend and I were in the library canoodling and having a blast. Until Caroline Johnson decided to completely rain on my parade, to say the least. Turns out my boyfriend had been cheating on me with her. Oh, and she was angry. Yelling at me! Like she was the legitimate girlfriend and I was the other woman. She called me a “sleaze bag.” What does that even mean? If anything she is the sleaze bag I am the real girlfriend. As you can assume I was livid. She had no right. I was better than her in every way. I was the true girlfriend, the true love, and the only girl he cared about. My therapist has told me to try to count to ten and ‘box breath’ but all of that kind of flew straight out the window. Could you imagine that? I wanted to rip every thread of hair out of her head and screwer her eyes and eat them like kabobs. But I did the “right thing” as my therapist would say and I just walked away. I kept walking all the way to my house actually. An entire 18 miles. When I got home I indulged in illegal substances of all kinds because that’s how my therapist said I shouldn’t deal with my problems. I should not drink until I can’t feel any more or smoke until my chest feels like its caving in. I don’t like being told what to do. Everyone always trying to fix me and tell me ‘what is right’. What is right? How am I supposed to believe that anyone but me knows whats right? That’s when I made the phone call. I completely tattled on my boyfriend. Told the police that he was a drug dealer and where his stash was. I had been his henchman for too long. I sold to all the ugly boys that I could flirt into buying from me. And he gave me nothing. I got zero money for any of my work. So he got tattled on and I don’t feel bad. It was kind of his fault right? Well, I think it was. The next part was definitely his fault. 

I invited pretty little Caroline over. I thought maybe we could bond over our cheater boyfriend. Or at least that’s what I told her. When she arrived she had her usual ‘Im better than you attitude’. She might have known I was a psychopath. Guess we’ll never know. She started yelling at me again. Could you believe that? Calling me crazy for getting him arrested. The only way I could figure out how to shut her up was to shove a knife into her neck. Or at least that’s what I did. I honestly can not remember. I do not care either she deserved it. Everything I did was right. Without blinking I covered everything in my room with gas and lit it on fire. I couldn’t have people trying to punish me for my actions. They don’t understand what she did to me or what she took from me. They would look at me like I was barbaric and I’m not. I’m totally justified. She messed with my life so I ended hers. Fair is fair. Right?

By then it was about 3 in the afternoon. My mom would be home soon and I didn’t want her whole house to burn down. I mean she had kept me from having to live in an asylum so I felt I owed her that. I can’t say that I ever loved my mother but she gave me life and tried to love me so the only way I can explain it is I owed her. I called the fire department and headed towards the airport. The whole way there I could not stop thinking about Caroline or my boyfriend. Not because I felt bad. Because I didn’t. But because I was still angry. I couldn’t remember the satisfaction of watching Caroline get what she deserves. I blackout every time. Then I noticed the driver staring at me and he sped up. We were at the airport in a quick time. The driver diligently got my things out of the trunk as if my eyes were glowing red or something. Then I bought the cheapest ticket and now I believe I’m on my way to Salem. 

I feel like I can finally embrace myself. I am a do-gooder. Think about it. I took a drug dealer and lying scum off of this earth. I did everyone a favor. But as I am writing this I am realizing that I am a psychopath. But that is part of who I am. When someones gay they don’t send them to an asylum. I just can’t understand. That might be because I’m a psychopath. I could be more though. I could be a billionaire or cure cancer. Even if I’m a little touchy. There is just no reason to treat me differently. Why can’t we coexist? Oh, wait because I’m superior. I almost forgot.  

But anyway I see a very handsome boy across the row. I think I found where I’ll be staying for a while. Until he inevitably disappoints me like they always do. I will let you know how that works out. Until tomorrow’s diary.