Blood is the only part of killing that I find unpleasant. That’s why I mainly use blunt weapons; strangling would be fine if I was stronger, but my average strength means I can only usually strangle women.
I know people won’t understand. They were raised to not understand, to ignore passion and instinct in order to do what they believe is the ‘honest’ thing, not seeing that it is as far from honest as possible. They despise people like me, people who live true to thier feelings but yet they admire ‘our’ soldiers who aren’t following their desires at all they are just following the orders of our supposed leaders who do what I do just on a larger scale. At least I don’t do it for material objects; money and oil mean nothing to me. People no longer live true to their instincts. That’s why the only time I feel even a smidgeon of respect for the fuckers is in the final moments before they die, everything is then instinct. They no longer show they are hurting with the customary “ouch”, they forget all they have learnt; they no longer regurgitate bullshit. Instead the noises come from deep within them, noises that would usually frighten them; grunts and screams that sound as if they are the product of an explosion in their stomachs. The noises get more and more frantic, as the situation approaches the inevitable crescendo. And then the noises stop and I’m left alone - with beautiful silence - feeling as alive as it is physically possible.
Words: Matthew Hamblin
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