[ WP ] Put me into the mind of a sane man going insane .

I do n't know what to do anymore. 
 
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 I guess I should start from the beginning. Yeah, that would be a good idea. 
 
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 I was working at a tech firm company. Typical Java shop, just endlessly mediocre people cranking out code. I saw a green bug on my screen and smashed it. 
 
 Later that day, I saw one in my home. *Little bugger got on my shoe*, I thought. That bug's death was swift and quick. 
 
 There was something oddly cathartic about my cold and quick execution of lesser life-forms. When I saw one on my jacket sleeve going to work the next day, I got a little adrenaline kick from smashing it. *That's normal, is n't it? Maybe not normal, but everyone likes to bust some heads, right? * 
 
 My dreams the next night were oddly terrifying and exhilarating. In the dream I could n't exorcise from my mind, I was fighting a giant bug, roughly six feet long. It was on the ground after a long and tense struggle. I, slightly bloodied, took a baseball bat and swung as hard as I could, decapitating the aphid-like creature. 
 
 What I just could n't forget in the dream was the sense of power, the giddiness of being able to *take a life*. 
 
 Over the next year, the dream became recurring and intense. The bug would change shape, becoming a dog, or a rat, or a frog. The outcome was the same every time: the head coming off, followed by my eyes slamming open and my veins seemingly filling with energy. I never had problems with alarms any more. The dream would always get me raring. 
 
 
 The most important development in this story happened after that. I had just fought with my boss over a pay raise, and I was planning to terminate my contract later that night. The dream happened in its usual way, but there was something else. In my judgement-impaired fuzzy dream state, it took me a while to realize what made this different from the other dreams: the creature was a man in a suit, screaming for mercy. 
 
 I will never forget the seconds that followed. I screamed a primal war cry of `` AYYYAAAH!'' as I swung with all my might. Time seemed to stop as I heard bones break and tendons snap and I saw my boss's face slam against the wall. The rush I had put every adrenaline surge I had in the past to shame. It felt like in that moment I could have done anything, and the only feeling that overpowered my sense of pure *power*, pure *ability*, pure *energy*, was the gloat I had already had from the immense power I had just wielded, the power to take a human life. 
 
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 I had this dream, with different people every day, for another year. I started to daydream about it, and I started to fantasize about it in every idle minute. I started taking Ambien to get to sleep sooner so I could reenact this scene for the thousandth time. The inexorable progress of this little *Idée fixe* went on, and I started thinking about how the rush I would get in real life would far surpass even the most incredible and ecstatic feelings I could achieve in my dreams. *I just need to feel that once! I would stop after that! I would do anything to experience that! * 
 
 I chose a night: March 15th. I saw a woman coming home in a back alley. I was carrying around my bat, waiting for the right time. I snuck out of her sight, took out my cable, and shorted my battery. I turned on my car and watched the sound of malfunction fill the sunset-lit street. I hollered over to her in my best Good Samaritan voice, `` Young Lady? Can you help me with my car?'' She came over, and I explained with a sympathetic look how sorry I was to bother her, how this would only be a minute, how thankful I was that she was there, how she was practically an angel, and the usual compliments and expressions of gratitude that you lavish upon someone who helps you in need. She peered over the hood of my car, still smoking. She coughed loudly, which prevented her scream as I slammed a crowbar into her back. She flailed around, and I slammed her solar plexus, taking her wind away and preventing her from running or getting help. A leg sweep sent her to the asphalt. Now came the part I had fantasized about for many months. I took my bat out of my backpack as if to load an arrow into a bow. I had honed the edge of the bat: it now tapered to a thin blade at one end. I twirled around and cleaved the bat, weighted with iron, as hard as I could. 
 
 At the mere sound of her bodily separation my brain flooded with a feeling like no other, of pure bliss and ecstasy. *This is what heaven must feel like*, I thought. *This is when I could die happy. * 
 
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 It's now the 16th of March. Try as I might, I ca n't stop my mind from turning to that moment, to that feeling unlike any other I felt, a combination of peaceful bliss and supercharged power and adrenaline. i do n't know what to do anymore, but my blood-soaked bat is beckoning. 
 
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 I hold a human head in my hands. 
 

