So how did it all start?

Well, it started out just like any disease, just like any obsession—with a headache and a heartache. It happened when I saw my whole life ahead of me, cliched and predictable like a bad novel. And like bones grinding the nerves away, the closer it got the more paralyzed I felt. I became afraid. Then somewhere along the way I found an escape. Eventually I began to do it little by little, just enough to get me by. And the next thing you know I was already long gone.

Was it hard the first time?

It’s always hard the first time because everything’s new, everything’s speculation. That’s why—good or bad—there’s nothing like the first time. After that, what you have to look forward to is the last time. But there’s no way of knowing when the last time will be, that’s why I try to do everything as though it is my last.

Do you have a preferred method of execution? What’s your inspiration?

Everybody does what works for them. I personally have no attachments to any “method.” I do what works. Sometimes it’s necessary to use tact and wit, sometimes with an axe and a sickle, sometimes with poison and charm. You have to remember, the weightlessness of imagination is the only thing exempt from the gravity of life. Other times I sit in the toilet, meditating and feeling my testicles for signs.

How many victims have you had?

I don’t know; I’ve lost count. But it doesn’t matter anyway. Everyday is a new way to win or lose. It’s like that Stevie Nicks song, “When I went searching for answers/ up the stairs and down the hall/ not to find an answer/ just to hear a call.” Basically, I love everything leading up to the kill. After that, then it’s time to move on.

Do you feel any remorse about what you’ve done, about what you’ve chosen to keep on doing?

Only when I feel like I didn’t try.

Aren’t you concerned about what people may think? About what your family may think?

Between me and the world, there will always be a version of myself that others have created. I welcome such creations. I think they’re great. They protect me from those who wish to harm me, and keep me exclusive to those who truly love me. Eventually, I believe that time will allocate the right significance to things. Time will tell. But if it doesn’t, well I guess I’ll just have to do it by myself.

But not all rumors are good. What if the rumors are harmful?

Denying a bad rumor alone is like adding kindling to the fire. What needs to be done is to admit to an even worse rumor. For instance, if they claim that you support violence against animals, you tell them: “No! I do not support violence against animals! In fact, I frequently go on PETA protests, throwing infected blood on the faces of children wearing Mickey Mouse ears!”

What do you seek to achieve in doing all of this?

To have fun, of course. Otherwise what’s the point? I also want to have groupies, although I fear I may only get castrating psychos and death threats from bearded men.

What will you say to those who are struggling and may be seeking to reform themselves ?

Never quit. Always go too far. You have to keep on going because you have no other choice. When you’re alone in the dark you have to light yourself on fire. It’s just like fucking; if you want to last, the trick is to keep breathing.

Thank you so much for your time…

The sociopath’s haunted eyes dissolved in thin air, and the interviewer found himself all alone in the room. With the clock ticking away, he quickly packed his things and rushed down to the coffee shop to digest what he just heard.

He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know how to continue. The sociopath was out in the world again—craving, watching and seeking.

Hiding in plain sight.