And it wasn’t the first time, either. I’ve done it before. And I know in my heart that I’ll do it again. It’s taken me a few days to come to grips with it—as it always does—but now I’m ready to admit my heinous crimes. Because admitting that you have a problem is the first step.
Mr. Weebles is aware of my crimes. He doesn’t condone them. But he knows he is powerless to stop me. He knows I will kill again and again. And again.
I don’t do it on purpose. I’m not proud of my actions. I have no hatred for my victims. It just . . . happens. I can’t help myself. I try to take precautions so that I don’t cause any harm, but sometimes I forget myself and before I know it, there’s another one. Dead. I’ve lost count at this point, but I would estimate that I’ve killed anywhere between 50 and 100 innocents.
My friends, what you are about to see isn’t pretty. In fact, it’s gruesome and grotesque. I would advise those of you with small children to make sure the little ones are as far away from your monitor as possible before you view these so you don’t scar them for life. You shouldn’t view these while you’re at work either in case your company’s IT department monitors this type of thing.
If you have a sensitive nature, please be warned. These are the kinds of images that will stay with you forever. They’ll haunt you to your core. You cannot unsee them once they have been seen. They will be permanently etched on your retinas. I cannot emphasize this enough. Do you have any Valium or Xanax? You might want to take some now and wait until it kicks in. Or have a stiff drink to numb your senses to what you are about to see. Even I still get sickened, and I’m the murderer. I’ve seen it all first hand. I’ve stared at the corpses and cleaned them up. I never get used to the carnage. And yet I continue to commit these terrible acts.
I’m so sorry, little tissues. I didn’t mean to wash you. I just keep forgetting that I have you in my pockets and then I forget to check my pockets before I do the laundry. You have no idea how much it hurts me to see you like this, all shredded and brittle. Sometimes I have to look away for a moment. I cry when I pick your little remains off my clothing. You were so kind, and soft, and you didn’t deserve this fate. I will mourn each and every one of you until the day I die.