Everybody fantasizes about something. They dream of finding a cute girl/guy, of being famous, of going to space. I have fantasies too. Dark ones.
To those around me, I seem normal enough, maybe a bit weird. And when I’m with other people, I am relatively normal – I joke around, play games, talk about stuff. But when I’m by myself, surrounded by people yet alone, my mind wanders. Sometimes I work on a story. Sometimes I think about stuff. Sometimes I look at the people around me. I wonder what’s going on in their lives. I wonder what would happen if they died. I see people walking along happily, and I imagine them running, afraid.
My darkest thoughts don’t affect any person in particular. I imagine myself being the cause of their demise, watching their life fade before my eyes.
Am I crazy? I don’t think so. They say acknowledging that something isn’t right is a good sign of sanity. And I don’t really hate anyone. I may hold a grudge sometimes, or dislike a person, but I don’t hate them. But my heart storms against “normal” people. I know violence is wrong, and I know I would never really hurt another person. My heart isn’t so sure.
I’m that kid who sits in class, staring off into space. I don’t take notes, I don’t talk to people much. Sometimes I ask the teacher an interesting question, or answer the teacher’s question, either with a clever answer or some smart-aleck answer. Mostly, I just sit there, thinking. Maybe I’m thinking about you.
Okay, what can I say to explain this one? I have a lot of time to think during my lunch hour, and my mind goes to some strange places. Somehow I came up with this little story. I hope it isn’t too disturbing.