Being a sociopath is harder than I had first thought. It is difficult when you are expected to maintain a certain way of behaving, I have noticed that I have unconsciously changed my accent and am unsure if this is necessary. My thoughts have not touched on the subject of feelings; but I am not completely oblivious to them.
My efforts continue as I restrict the far crevices of my imagination from being opened, touchy subjects discarded and all that mattered forgotten. I have no regard for rules; for no guilty conscience rests effortlessly in my memory. Everything left in my mind is empty, useless, risqué, rational, intelligent and particular - Life resides.
However, all sanity disputed and put aside; when I sleep things change. I become unaware of my actions, thoughts, and feelings; although - technically - when night passes I am aware only primarily due to the aftermath of my ventures.
I haven’t been trying yet have found myself unconforming to societies normalities. I don’t wish to sound cliché when I say that I feel transparent yet opaque simultaneously - Unsure of the outcome of this personal venture. I have found myself in possession of a diary this morning in order to write down my observations of peoples’ personal lives; due to the fact that my husband went missing in the early hours.
Being a private detective - and having the mind of a high functioning sociopath - you would think that I would have solved this missing mystery. But, my lack of grief and emotion towards the situation has caused me a reasonable amount of distress; and of course, there’s the fact that I found his…
Heart…
… In my fridge;
Which leads me to believe I may have done the unimaginable in my sleep. Wouldn’t be the first time.
The small crimson splatters on my nightgown may also amount to some suspicion. I am sure if I tested the blood from the gown, and the blood trailing across the hall and all the way to my fridge, I would indeed get a match. Of course, I cannot be completely certain that the heart is in fact his; therefore my investigations will have to dig deeper before I get to the bottom of this complex case.
Dawn broke through the darkness with its golden glow of hope that appeared from behind the sturdy hills as I stood in front of my manor house, the suns orange fixated core seemed to be staring me down. Glaring at me. As if I were the criminal. It is true… I believe that I may have something to do with this; it is not my fault. I cannot control what I do in my sleep. It is like I am half of two separate people. The narcissistic sociopath by day meeting the brutal psychopath by night. I grasped the edges of my jacket, clinging on to any shred of warmth I could. A light dew settled atop the coarse, dry grass as the cold led me to shudder. I was looking for a body, in the grounds of my OWN house. What has my life come to?
My boots crunched over the frosted ground like a farmers on straw. My eyes fixed on changing my corrupted heart.
My head spinning and fingers shaking as I fell onto the damp grass face first. I killed my husband. With my own bare hands. I looked down at my palms, covered in blood.
“No! I didn’t! I didn’t do it!” I screamed, throwing my head against the grounds. For the first time in my life I felt guilty; tears streamed down my face and all feeling left me. I remembered the last time I set eyes on him, such a happy man. He had always treated me so well. He loved me with his whole heart, but I never loved him, strung him along for my own amusement and then I killed him!
I took a knife; and plunged it into his chest.
I tore out his heart; both literally and metaphorically.
I gave him no mercy.
I remember it now, the look in his sweet blue eyes. The way he had begged me to let him be. That was what I saw the last time I looked at him. I saw a livid anger in his usually calm eyes. I saw the way he convulsed as the blood poured from his pale, dead, empty body. Yet I stood there and watched. I let him bleed profusely right in front of my eyes and did nothing.
I have committed the unforgivable for the last time.
Now, it is my turn to die.