So, I will not lie when I say a lot of my favorite characters are the supposed 'villains' or 'bad guys', the typical 'Asylum-Dwellers'. Jimmy Casket, Scourge, Mapleshade, and my own characters like Singe Casket and Tsunami Crash. They are all my favorites, because I can relate to them.

First off, we need to know what makes a person turn 'evil'. Well, evil is not the right word, really. Just... insane. What makes them change?

Many things can; bullying, teasing, death of friends and loved ones, constant harassment, bad memories, being pushed to the limit trying to answer the questions of people who know the answers but still ask and are not willing to listen! Heh... I get asked this every... single... day...

"Why the Hell are you so damn creepy?"

"Why are you insane?"

"Are you schizophrenic or something, you keep talking to yourself over there."

Apparently, even when you have told them a thousand times over, they still ask, getting more and more aggressive about the question, leaning for an answer but too lazy to pick it up themselves or hold on to it, they have to be given it multiple times to understand.

The cycle repeats every day, over and over, like having to RESET in a game after you have died one too many times.

It is like your face is sticking out from the crowd, due to your grin, eyes, posture, the way you laugh under your breath as you picture driving a knife into their throats. They do not understand what it is like, because they are on the transmitting end, while you are the one receiving the blows.

You are the one in the crossfire and they are the one with their finger on the trigger.

You are the one who brought a knife to a gun fight. And you are the one who is going to strike back, laughing.

"Look who's laughing now!" I would say as I splatter our faces with their blood and guts as I rip their intestinal track out from their mouth. "It's not funny, is it? Oh, I'm sorry. Well, maybe you should've considered your actions before you were on my end!"

I can picture the terror in their eyes as they finally fell still beneath my weight as I pinned them down, enjoying how they squirmed to break free. How I oh-so wish this to be real! But it is just a glimmer of dying hope in the back of my mind...

The tables will turn soon, and then they will have the bad hand in this game of poker, bets not measured by any amount of game chips, bets not measured by the forces of law... bets not measured by our strength. Bets on life and death.

The state of mind that I am in currently is like an asylum. The people around me are the doctors, poking and prodding and asking why I flinch.

I am saying all of this with a snarl, a growl low in my throat.

The sound is made because I want people to back off, to leave me alone, but they do not.

I am in a mental hospital in my own head, and these people telling me to go to one do not know this. Control only goes so far, and soon mine might break.

One day I might snap to the point of bringing my knife to school and start to murder the people who have killed me inside. So do not act surprised.

Actually, now that I mention it, a bitch-ass bastard named Julio Morales accused me of having a knife... I had heeleys and the "knife" was the tool that removed the wheels so I didn't get in trouble for having them.

He is God damn lucky that I did not use it as an actual knife and drive it into his throat, despite the bluntness of the thing.

People need to learn not to mess with me...