All the crazy things at once.
I don't have any friends, for real, so I have never told any secrets of mine to anyone. But I want to. So here I am, typing it to a computer and people I don't even know.
I suppose my number one secret is that I have felt like a guy for all my life. And never mentioned it to anyone. I felt that, what's the point; it would make them hate me for being different even more. Even weirder still; I think of myself as I guy, I feel like one, and yet I am attracted to guys. It's one thing to be transgender, but being transgender AND gay?
Weirdest secret to me, maybe not to few others, is that I find Nazis sexy...yes. Yes I said it, finally. I don't know why. And it makes me angry when people say how horrible the Holocaust was. I don't even believe in that Nationalist Socialist stuff, yet here I am secretly supporting it? Just because I think they're sexy? I am really moronic...
I wish I could get ahold of a kitten just to break it's neck. I've fantasized about killing cats since 5th grade, when my neighbor showed me his kittens. From that moment on I wanted to crush it's skull in my hand; feel the life drain out of it. Animals are so helpless. People are too, but the strong ones devour the weak to gain power, do they not? That is another thing:
I see no point in living if I can't gain power and control others. There is nothing else of importance to me. Why continue being one other insignificant human on this filthy world? Failing at suicide made me realize how utterly pathetic I was. I want to turn myself around and become infamous. I want to take the lives of all the many people who call me worthless, call me small, tell my I can't be myself. I want-no, need-to prove that I am far better than those inferior bastards.
I can't tell anything to my therapist or she'll throw me into the mental hospital. All I do when I am around here is act like everything is so-so, acting like I don't have homicidal urges and unrelenting hatred for everyone, acting like I am fine in my body. Nobody knows the real me. And who will, until I can rise up and show them? What will it take? Or am I to go on "living" like this, just acting? Ah, the actor, the hologram, the puppet. They think it's me when they know nothing. They don't know I'm past the edge. I'm already falling.