Insane

Chapter Two- Life

Life.

Quite a strange thing, isn't it?

Most men waste their entire existence trying to decipher the meaning of life. Hardly any reach that goal. It's rather sad, really. That many people go mad trying to solve this age old mystery, yet I was born mad, and I've succeeded from just twenty three short years of thought.

You see, I analyze things more than the average person. But, I'm not the average person. I'm insane. I often theorize. Mostly about anything to do with psychology. The brain is a remarkable thing, in my eyes. It's quite fascinating because it is a part of you, yet it can completely contradict anything you do. Your brain can agree and cooperate, or can cheat and deceive.

Extraordinary.

Recently, I have found what I believe to be the meaning of life. Or, my theory of the meaning of life. Right now is one of those moments that I'm glad to be in Solitary Confinement. I can speak my theory out loud without and disruptions and distractions. I know, typical psycho moment, talking to myself. But, I only do it to ensure that what's in my head makes sense when it comes out of my mouth.

I sit on the floor with my back against the wall and my crossed legs extended in front of my body. I put my hands behind my head and lay back, closing my eyes, and taking a deep breath. I focus extremely hard on my choice of words before I speak.

"Ready, Gerard? Yes, thank you, Gerard. You're welcome, Gerard. Now, tell us, what is the meaning of life? Well, Gerard, that is a very simple question. The meaning of life is to live. It's so simple, most people overlook this answer, but it is the most accurate. There is a simple meaning to everything we do, and we always overlook them. For example, the reason we breathe, is not some elaborate answer. We breathe to get oxygen. We blink to wet our eyes. We take a step to move from our current position. We are alive to live. To take the short time you're given with a beating heart, and do anything you can. There is no such thing as fate. We decide our life choices. We are alone in this life. We fend for ourselves. We do what it takes to survive. You can either watch your life drag on day after day after miserable, agonising, wretched, depressing, mournful, doleful, disconsolate, woeful, dejected, dismal, despondent, pitiful day. Or you can make the most of it, and do everything you can to make your life a satisfactory one."

I end my speech with a small nod to prove my point. To whom? I'm not sure, but someone nonetheless. I stare at the ceiling for a moment when I spot it.

The camera.

There they are.

Always watching.

Those bastards.

Why?

Why must they always watch me?

Can't a guy get a little privacy?

I'm twenty three, for God's sake. Not five.

I shake my head in annoyance.

Geez.

You kill a few people and no one trusts you anymore.

I close my eyes and try to remember my victims. I'm surprised when I can't. I furrow my brow and stand to pace the room. There have been victims, I know, but why can't I recall any?

I know I've killed sixteen people. I know how, too.

The first time I murdered someone was when I was 17. I strangled someone. I don't remember who, but I did.

Then I poisoned someone.

Then I stabbed someone. Twelve times. In the chest.

I remember that's when people started to look for me. I was all over the news for the deaths I had caused. No one knew who I was or what I looked like, but I was incredibly famous. They called me 'The Cartoonist' for the way I would draw 'X's over my victim's eyes.