The killer

I was not always the way I am now. I used to appreciate life...When does that moment come when you stop doing it?. It is as If my soul had been devoured. Losing my own personality, transforming my own mind, changing my thoughts all the time.

Reactions to complicated situations. I couldn't find myself after the storm, and like a castaway, I was sailing adrift without knowing which direction to take to find the peace I had lost.

The decisions in the middle of the dark are the most difficult to make. Although your will allows you to keep trying the cruel destiny takes care of putting you in the place you belong no matter if you deserve it or not, or if it's fair or not. And there you are as if the mission of your existence were to be the hunter, the torturer, the executioner.

And the only logic choice you have is to adapt or die.

So you adapt and start to live at the expense of the life of others. You take their lives and make them yours.

Death and murder became your salvation. And suddenly, you start to loving it. Isn't strange how something you used to hate ends up being your passion?

So, you start to asking yourself, again...

Who the fuck I am?