I'm Obsessed With Serial Killers

The family reunion was this weekend. Nothing new, nothing terrible, I didn't think. It was hard to tell. I don't like being around family. The thing is, I can read people, and I can see what they feel, but I can't react to it. It's almost like there's this barrier hovering in front of me, this little ghost in my head that clouds my judgement so that I have to consciously fake my reactions to other people's emotions. Not always. Just 90% of the time.
Byron came to my door and woke me up, dragging me to the place where our family was meeting. I don't remember the name of it, it was just some park. There were trees, benches, green grass was on the ground. Nothing special by any means. Mum and Dad came up to greet us, hugging the two of us and giving us a kiss on the cheek. I shut my eyes, attepting to fake a smile, hiding the disgust I felt within. They didn't have a place to act like this to me, to act as if we aren't strangers nowadays. I'm 25 years old. I've moved on.
Random family came up to me, asking how I've been. The answer is always the same. Basic. "I've been getting by, found a career helping people recover from addiction. And you?" That's where you tune them out, nodding occasionally while imagining what they would look like drenched in blood if you slit their throats. At least, that's what I do at these sort of things. My strange fantasies, the distorted images I put into my head, they're the only thing that keep me in check. As long as I still feel some pleasure from the thought of blood, the very idea of watching someone bleed out until they no longer feel alive, until they're as dead as I have always have been. I know I'm still breathing, I'm still okay. I'm still the Nyxon that I know.
The only problem is, I don't think these fantasies can last much longer. I can't even convey the compulsion eating at me to track down and kill, the very bloodlust that sprials out of control each time I feed it. I've been writing murder plans for years now, but it's finally time I look them over. I may have to use the better ones soon. I fear there is no other way.

I can't tell you what happened at the family reunion any farther than that. I don't think any of it was bad, but I have this thing. I escape from reality by thinking. I live inside my brain, going over the same thoughts repeatedly until I'm sick of hearing them. The only downside is that I can't remember what happened in reality around me.

I made it back to my hotel, packed up and left my family behind once again. I could only hope it was for good, even though I knew it never would be. Not unless they all died, somehow...
I couldn't do that. It would get traced back to me.

Back home, life resumed as usual. Liliana came over to say "Welcome Back!" I like her, with her multicoloured, overly layered big hair, but she can get to be a bit much. I smiled and said thanks as she pulled out the wine coolers she'd brought over as a surprise. I don't drink, not usually. I can't stand the taste of alcohol, I don't know why. I haven't had any bad experience with it, I just don't like it.
Nevertheless, I smiled and gave her a toast, for the sake of appearing normal. Isn't that what everyone does, plays along to appear normal?
I'm not that much of a monster, I don't think. We aren't all hiding a compulsion to become a serial killer, no, but we're all hiding something. Addiction, abuse, mental illness. Nobody's normal, the world just doesn't work that way. Some of us are just more violent than others is all.
We all have evil in us. We all want something. Money, sex, drugs, company... Me? I just want chaos.