28th November, 1988.

Dear diary,
                     The human mind is the scariest thing of all. This, I realised a very long time ago, but I got the literal meaning of it today when a morbid thought flashed in my mind: I wanted to cut body parts.

First would be the head.

Second would be the arms.

Third would be the ripping out of guts.

Forth would be the legs.

And then, those pieces would go in a trashbag, broughten home, smacked chopped with a butcher's knife, and fed to probably street dogs and cats.

At this point I indeed need mental help. I am becoming a psychopath. But psychopaths would never know that they themselves are psycho. So I can say I am slowly delving into insanity.

Insanity of murdering. Killing mercilessly. For no reason at all. For just a sport. For fun only. Dear God, what's wrong with me?

Why is it happening? Some days ago I was a normal person. A normal woman in her late twenties. I mean, it's insane how it happened: one minute, I'm normal. The next minute, I am what I am now: a monster. Intended on watching people suffer and die.

I tried to control myself. And it did work.

I mean, I didn't kill anyone today. Even though I wanted to. I had so many patients. At times I wanted to strangle some, and just gouge their eyes out. The sightings of blood at the hospital made me even more tempted, but I still controlled myself.

I am happy that I am progressing a little.

                 ___________________