Murder/ or: a lack of self worth. in The grotesque metamorphosis of a Bi-Polar human into a Tri-polar monster.

The trial for my nephews murder is on a temporary hiatus for the holiday season, so my parents are back in town.
I’m glad they are back…I feel like such a child, but this empty house was driving me insane, especially getting the updates about the trial from so far away…feeling helpless, rehashing so many terrible memories…making new terrible memories…learning new terrible details.

So far it seems that the prosecution has this whole trial in the bag (which is a good thing), but the defense has the next ten days to pull together some sort of bullshit to throw at anyone and everyone they can to drag this thing out as long as they can.

The babysitter confessed to killing my nephew…the entire thing is videotaped, she was not under duress, no one was being tricky…bitch broke down and admitted to being a monster.

I hope that when she is found guilty she is killed slowly in prison.
I know that in a men’s prison people who commit acts against children are swiftly and properly dealt with…I can only pray the same justice system will be upheld in the women’s facility.

I will honestly feel better if I know her life was taken from her in a cold, dark, unfamiliar place, surrounded by people who don’t love her…the same way my nephew died.

It won’t bring anything back and it won’t make anything better.

I would kill her myself if given the chance.
I am not ashamed to admit that.
I don’t think human life is inherently valuable and I believe that murder is only against the law because if people are constantly taking the law into their own hands then what’s the point in really having a law in the first place?

That doesn’t mean I don’t find any human life valuable, I have just seen so much…I have traveled the astral plane and I have conversed with inter-dimensional beings telepathically, I have experienced death twice and came back to try to make sense of it all.
I have come to understand that nothing has intrinsic value, everything is subjective, value must be placed and then constantly negotiated.

My nephew’s life had value to me, it had no value to “her”. “she” has no value to me.
And yet…I would torture her slowly before I let her escape…so maybe she does have some sort of value.

What would I get from that? I mean, truly…
Right now I am sitting in my room and I am imagining having her tied to a chair, gagged, dirty, tear stains gleaming in an emaciated dough white in stark contrast to the soot and soil that covers her face.

Maybe I would just leave her there, tied up…I would go about my day, this woman my prisoner, and I would pretend that she wasn’t even there.
I would just ignore her cries and moans and let her slowly starve to death.
Maybe I would give her just enough water to keep her alive…starving to death can take months.

Maybe I would keep her sleep deprived.

Maybe I wouldn’t even kill her, I would just neglect her to death and beat her against the head with heavy books every morning and night.

Maybe I would make her drink my blood and perform black magick rituals on her, the most dangerous curses that I’ve read but never dared to perform.

Maybe I would burn her feet so that every waking moment of the rest of her life was a fraction of the agony that my sister has to live with.

…

Maybe I shouldn’t be thinking about this too much longer.

…

I was going to talk about a lack of self worth.
It’s hard to talk about myself and my petty problems right now. “Oh, poor me, my brain hurts.”

It all seems somewhat trivial in the face of this....this nightmare.
It’s been two years since the actual murder. My nephew would be 3 and a half.
He’d be talking and we’d be really getting to know him.

…this whole trial is opening up wounds that never got a chance to scar.

I hurt for so many people.

Nothing will make it better except time…and even then, time is a liar.

…I don’t even know how I’m supposed to go into my therapist on Tuesday and talk about anything but this.
I missed my last therapist appointment because I have just been drinking non stop since this trial started.

I’m drinking right now.

That was probably obvious…if I’m not drinking I’ll probably be bragging about it, right? “Look at me, everyone, I’ve made it a week without having a drink!”
I might as well be bragging that I pay my own rent.
Oh wait…I don’t do that anymore.

I dress myself.

I mean, barely…I have my work uniform that’s kind of already picked out for me…and then when I come home, every single day for the last week I have changed into a pair of sweat pants and a hoodie…so I mean…I guess I’m not really even dressing myself anymore.

I moved out for the first time when I was 17 years old.
I lived on my own for like 14 years.

Now I’ve been back at my parents for almost a year and a half, and it’s starting to look like I’m never going to leave.
I will probably have to kill myself when my parents die.

I dunno…maybe I can live with one of my sisters or something.

I’m never going to get married.
I am never going to have children.
I will never own a house.
I will never know true love.
I will never be fulfilled.
I will never know true happiness.
I will never find my purpose.
I will not look back on my life and think how wonderful this world was…or how blessed I have been…when my time comes I will be a little scared, but I will be ready.

I am ready now.

I feel like I have seen enough of this world and it’s not going to get better than this.
I have seen other worlds.
I know this is not as good as it gets.

I love you.

-Dane