Death is a beautiful thing when you think about it. So unknown, and so frightening. I don't think death is something to fear, but that's the way things are. Normal people fear the darkness, the unknown, and what's to come. But then again, I'm not exactly normal people.

I've always seen things differently. You see murder victims as husbands and wives and children. I only see part of the puzzle. It comes in handy sometimes, not seeing the deceased on a personal level, but that makes it harder to fit in with my surroundings. When you work in homicide, you're expected to feel for the grieving families and use your own personal connection to the victims as motive for catching their killers. People fake a lot of human interactions, but I feel like I fake them all, and I fake them very well. That's my burden, I guess.

I never know what to say. When I see a mangled corpse, or bloody remains, I don't think about that person ever having a life, or a family, or anything like that. I see the hot, sticky, blood and the body parts, and I can imagine plunging my own knife into this person, or drilling their face in. But only for a second. Then it's back to work.

The prospect of death fascinates me. The whole idea of an afterlife and souls and being able to see your life flash before your eyes is just like a dream to me. I don't think I'll have to know what death feels like for a few decades, hopefully, but causing death is quite enough for me.

I don't kill because I want to, I kill because I have to. Wake up, eat breakfast, brush your teeth, go to work, kill. Repeat, repeat, and repeat. It's just a way of life for I suppose. I don't remember a life when I didn't feel the need to kill, and truth to be told, it's better this way. If I remembered a time when I didn't have to live with my Dark Passenger, I'd just be bitter. And who wants to live a bitter life?

Death really is a beautiful thing. It can be done in so many ways, and so creatively. Some may be horrified with the prospect, but not me. In fact, quite the opposite. To me, death is as normal as a daily morning routine. I guess it's just the way I am. Maybe someday, my Dark Passenger will fly away and find somebody else to control, but that day is not today. And truthfully, I'm doing just fine.

Do I see sheets of plastic in your future?