No RemorseMature

It’s a wonderful thing to be without a conscience.

Most people hear sociopath and think of it as something bad. They think it's someone they'd know right off that they shouldn't trust and they feel safer.

And by all means, keep doing that.

It's how I win.

I can be charming, sweet, or downright folksy whenever I want. It's like turning on a light. I know what an emotion looks like; I know how to portray them without having it affect me. My drama teacher was amazed by my talent; she wanted me to pursue it as a career. But, I pretended to be humble and shy and eventually she stopped.

I did not want to have a recognizable face. if someone catches me in the act, i want them to say, "He just seemed so ordinary." 

Your conscience holds you back. It fills you with guilt, worry, pity, and empathy. I play these emotions like a piano. That’s why I win the game every time.

You worry about how it will look to others if you paint your house. You don’t apply for a promotion because your wife wants you home more. Or you do apply, but only because she says to. You give your seat to that old woman, and then the bus lurches forward and you get hurt.

I have never felt remorse, sorrow, or guilt. 

My parents, wives, girlfriends, and children are all disposable. If one dies or leaves me, I don’t miss them. I might give an award-winning performance of sadness, but I don’t feel it.

Everything I do, i do because it will be better for me. i always knew exactly what i wanted to do. And I did just that.


The girl was blond. They always are. When my hands wrapped around that delicate swan’s neck, she put her own frail fingers around my wrists, trying to pull them away. It was adorable. I could barely feel the hands on mine, nevermind their weight.

You might wonder what she did wrong, you with convictions on what should/should not be allowed in modern society. I am not bound by that world; I overcame the temptations to join it. 

I had all the fun I could have with her – before, during and after. Now I had to pay it with cleaning and burying, then cleaning again.

It was cheaper than buying her dinner.

So why?

She was blond and I was bored.

And I had so much fun taking those last breaths away from her.

I had some bleach from the last one, so I cleaned out the truckbed. Oh sure, if the CSI crew came around, my ass’d be toast.

Luckily, real law enforcement is not that sophisticated.

I am living proof of their limitations.

And the blond? I guess she’s also proof, just not living.

The End

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