Humans are disgusting.
They really are. They do such awful things to one another. Hurt, maim, kill. And that's just what they do to each other physically. Not to mention what they do to each other's minds. Their souls.
Oh, I'm sorry. I've been rude and started this off all wrong. My name is Blythe. Blythe Baxter. I am entering my freshman year at high school, I'm an aspiring fashion designer, my dad works as a pilot and oh yeah...
I can hear the voices of animals.
Now you probably think I'm crazy. That I'm gonna go all Son of Sam. But I'm not. I could prove it to you. Could show the whole world I was right. But then the government would cut me up to see how my brain worked.
Cause Humans are disgusting.
Middle school was hard for me. Middle school is hard for everyone. As humans, we begin to come into our own bodies, which is a difficult metamorphizes. Suddenly all sorts of crazy desires and urges enter our heads. Things we'd never have dreamed of before. Or at least, wanted so strongly.
And women, we bleed.
I find there is something joyful about that fact. It's an adjustment to be sure, and it is uncomfortable, even painful. But it is an affirmation of women's connection to life. Blood is, after all, our lifeline. Our collective tether to the world.
Now, you must be thinking that this can't possibly be written by a girl in her mid-adolescence. No teenager would talk like this. But that's the thing. I've always been different. Always.
I learned I was Bi in sixth grade. I had a crush on my teacher, Ms. Sorenson. She was a beautiful young woman. A vision truly. She wore skirts that showed off her beautiful legs. The work she had us do was so boringly easy I spent most of class staring at her. Or at least sneaking peaks when I could.
It took a while for me to truly accept all my desires. It was at the beginning of 8th grade that I truly learned how to accept it. My father sent me to a psychologist, and he really helped me understand them. How to cope with them.
I'm a special case. I've always been.
Near where we moved in,I saw another pretty girl. She lived close by. It took a while to get to know her. My therapist told me that was important. Getting to know someone. A couple weeks was what it took. Which I also spent getting used to my new situation and the talking to animals thing.
When it was finally time. I did my thing. She was a real bleeder and the mess was something awful. But I was used to that at this point. I just had to do what my Psychologist told me. I cleaned it up and put her body in a shallow grave. I put the razor blade I had used back among my fathers. It had all gone perfectly.
Everyone won this way. My father got to keep his image of an innocent daughter, the family didn't have to see their loved one with their throat slit, and I got off the way I best got off. It was for the best.
Except for the young woman of course. She was only a couple years older than me.
Humanity is disgusting. But we are beautiful in our disgustingness.