A Mess of Thoughts

 A while ago, I followed an IG account of a Japanese woman. I thought she was cute and I like seeing pretty things on my feed. Recently she came up again on my screen.

But this time for an entirely different reason. Her name is Yuka Takaoka. Or as the internet has come to know her, the Yandere Girl. My heart pounded in my chest when I began to read and look at the photographs of the crime that had taken place only a few days ago. I was shocked yet excited. I've not been this excited since Miss Columbine. I just adore the unusual, disturbing and morbid. 

This is the closest I've ever been to a criminal. This may be the only time I've come close to a criminal and maybe my last if I don't take up my criminology course in university. My mind was in a dimly lit place before but lately...

It's going into a darker place. I don't wanna stop, I wanna embrace it, it's the only thing waking me up and pushing me forward. I enjoy it so much and my knowledge goes far on the disturbing. I could write books on this, I could write stories that involve this.

When I was diagnosed with Autism, the assessor said she met many people who are Autistic that have a passion for criminals. I told her why I think this might be and she agreed. Many people who work in criminology have some form of special needs that has had them locked on this passion. I think due to my working diagnosis of another mental illness it has me obsessed. I'm labelled as a Cause For Concern anyway, I'm sure if I go too far they'll tell me to stop and they'll give me more help than I had before. 

My heart is pounding and the anxiety that sat in my stomach changed to excitement. Fuck that anxiety and that bitch who gave it to me. She's inspired monsters and characters. That's as much as I'll thank her for. 

Over the past year or so I've given myself my own life expectancy. I think about all the times I tried to die before this and I'm honestly surprised I made it into my twenties. I didn't plan this far ahead. I'm too stuck in my body issues and trauma to think about my future. It's the last thing on my mind. 

I've debated on jumping in front of a train, taking all the medication I can get my hands on, finding the tallest building or bridge and hoping that it can kill me if I jump just right. Each time, something has stopped me be it because I didn't want to traumatise a child, I felt something within me, or because my cat was looking at me with betrayal. It's always something. Now, it looks like I'm just going slowly, something I never seemed to want to fix or recover from because I just don't respect myself. Counting, counting, counting. I wish I could just have a slice of toast for dinner then just drink 10 bottles of water and call it a day. After all, three hundred calories is three hundred calories. 

I'm turning 21 in a few months and I've taken to assuming that when I turn 28 I'd had enough and that's it. Whatever source I could use I'd do it because what else have I got left to lose? 

Nothing.

Nothing at all. Even my own family don't expect anything to happen to me. My guardian has become blunt, not even a maybe, just a flat out "You aren't going to be anything". At least they are self aware. Not long after giving me a speech on how I'll never be able to become anything they said: "I know I don't make you happy". Maybe it means they'll be aware when the time comes that they were part of the problem.