Confession

We're told from an early age, there's always two sides to every story, two faces on a coin. So naturally when I tell my side you'll question just about everything that I've said for it will sound completely outrageous, but luckily for me the other side to this story will never be told due to the fact the other person is dead. They also happen to be a dear friend, turned romantic which turned deadly. Years ago I met this blue eyed devil, sweet, innocent, seemly caring had me believing I wasn't bad, that I was special. As we all know if it seems too good to be true, it usually is. Once we see a persons true colors, trying to repaint them only hurts us more which leads to denial. This person seemed utterly perfect, lifted me up so high I couldn't see what was really happening around me. Then one day I started noticing small things at a time, here and there how they were acting. I was finally seeing clearly instead of the high clouded fog they put me in. I started plotting, scheming, hiding away information of my own, so that when push came to shove I'd have my own escape plan. With things in place, no longer having to lean on this person, for the treachery was now in place. Unless you want to call it by what it truly was, just desserts. As I the rest of my story goes, I've been called crazy, bet they made me this way. Most of the contents in this tale seem erratic, thoughts of a mad man, I'm perfectly fine with that, I keep getting off topic, sorry. I really don't mean to keep losing track of things, I'm writing this as they are staring at me, so I'm just kinda trying for them to not see everything I'm writing. Hell I'm not even sure how legible this is, I know I'm scribbling as fast as I can, this doesn't entirely make sense to me either. I know I had to kill them otherwise the voice wouldn't shut up or go away. I'm aware of completely mad I sound, but I'm telling the truth. I couldn't think clearly until I started listening to the voice in my head. All it kept saying was they didn't deserve to keep breathing, that they needed to pay the ultimate price and that I'd probably get caught, I just couldn't ignore it any longer. The day I chose to eliminate that part of my life was a long and difficult decision to conclude, this person well deserving did make me feel better about myself, the day I saw what I saw the whole world changed, and I knew I needed to go on with the plan without anymore hesitation, no more arguing with my hear. I really need to stop beating around the bush here huh, I killed them. I didn't have a choice, I was put into a position any other person would've done the exact same fucking thing. I'm sitting in front of this stupid reporter because I lost my shit and tried killing their friends too, anyone who had anything to do with what down, but I'm the crazy one. What isn't known or will ever be known is why I lost my shit, man I'm rambling here. This reporter keeps staring at me all I want to do is strangle her with these damn cuffs. They want to know why I killed them instead of running away, why I didn't just fly to another country. I'll tell this fucking reporter exactly why. I'll shout it if I have to, you don't make a fool outta me and think you will get away with it, don't build someone up unless you plan on being there the whole fucking time. I know this story is all over the place and again I apologize, I'm trying to get it all out before they hang me or maybe I'll hang myself? Interesting thoughts, will the police find the books and pictures? It doesn't seem like they have much to go on, but my statement, well that and the two survivors, though last I heard they were both in commas. The only part of this story that matters though is that the bastards got exactly what was coming to them I'll gladly take the rest to my grave, shit that's what I'll do. The lesson to take away from here, if you've learned someone's crazy, don't piss them off and lie about it. You'll end up burnt or dead, as for me though, I have to keep stalling long enough that, the press and the police will get bored or fed up and leave me be so, I'll finalize my plan. I'll leave this note, story, confession whatever you want this to be and I'll be sleeping permanently and I'll be able to rest in peace at least for the most part, I might haunt the other two until they die, ideas are just kinda up in the air. If they die in their commas, then there wouldn't be a point, unless this stupid reporter has anything to do with it, I read a book somewhere that said if a spirt is strong enough as in vengeful enough, they are able to murder. If this reporter doesn't leave me alone she'll end up on my list too. I really wish this lady would seriously just leave me the fuck alone. You'd think they'd have better food in here with as much money this dump gets every year out of my taxes. I'm a star, a celebrity amongst the young, the scared, abused, cheated. Wonder if they've learned their lesson I had plainly laid out for them? How well will I be known now, will my message be heard cross countries and through all the cities? Will I be easily be forgotten, will they write a book about me? Guess we'll never know, now they've finally gone and I'm being taken back to my cell, wonder if this confession will get lots of air time?