The definition of good and evil are very simple. However life can't be defined the same what. People live life in their own way, they are free to decide that. In truth, everyone is free to make choices. Of course they have every right to make their decisions in society, so long as said decisions follow the riles society gives them. It should be simple, but life as we know it is not always simple. It's especially difficult when you are a problem.

I am a problem that will never be solved. I stopped trying to change after I realized that people don't change, and no one can help me change. The addiction I suffer from is not something that can be cured with therapy or rehabilitation. I don't have a problem, but I am the problem. That is what I am. I must make the best of what I am while I have the time.

That's what I believe, and beliefs are important when it comes to living. It's an essential thing that is key to life. It can help you find inspiration, hope and confidence. My addiction is my religion, and should I want to find my salvation I need to keep to the rules. I need to stay in line if I want to walk like the normal free man. People hold on to what they believe in. No matter what, that right of belief will never be taken.

It's amazing. It's intoxicating. It's thrilling. It's a mystery to everyone, even me.

As my knife plummets into the heart of another monster, I feel taken with passion-a feeling. It's an amazing feeling, and it keeps me satisfied. I look at this dead body and I know my chances of survival, in at least one aspect, have gone up. With trembling fingers I pull out my handsome blade, staring at the blood that sent my own blood rushing. It was sublime, and could not be described with words of any kind.

There were no words to explain this strange "high". It was like being born again, only that did the experiance little justice. This man wouldn't be missed. He had no loving family, no close friends or intimate partners that visited him. He had no one, and neither did I.

After several cigarettes, I forced myself to clean the mess my friend had left behind. It was a chore that could not wait to be done. Moments pass, and his corpse was divided into sections respectible so, and placed into seperate black hefty bags. He would be completely disposed of later, and I double checked, making sure I left no fingerprint, no strand of hair behind. No one can know I was here. I was already under suspicion, and this was my last kill in Montreal. It was important that I leave before I took out too many, or left a trace behind.