Are you there? It’s me, Dexter. Today was a good day. I managed to kill off another bad guy again by ripping out his intestines with my teeth, and as usual nobody suspected anything afterwards even though I’m a freak show who acts like a creep even when I’m trying not to. Good thing I was assigned to the Miami beat because the other cops here are a joke. They seem much more interested in taking ATVs for joyrides and covering up their own crimes than in doing actual work. Sure, I’ve had a few close calls now and then, but nothing that the super sinister voice in my head and my perfect hair wasn’t able to get me out of.
Diary, I can feel your blank pages piercing into my soul and I am wondering if I should kill you for that, but I sense that you know something else is up and are just trying to look out for me. Well, you’re right because today wasn’t really a good day at all. It was a horrible day…just like every other day in my dark, depressing, sun-soaked life. Don’t get me wrong; I do enjoy being a serial killer and bringing ridiculously gruesome justice to the baddies, but I feel like there’s more to life than that. Isn’t there, Diary?
The truth is that I have a confession to make. I’ve never ever made it to anyone, but you’re the best friend I’ve got in this world. I know that I come across as being something of a “tough guy,” but the truth is that I really REALLY need a big huge hug. The other day, after I murdered someone, I lifted up their corpse and wrapped their arms around me. The skin was already going cold, but it was the warmest, softest touch that I’ve ever felt. I held the body for hours, and wept like a baby into its shoulder.
That moment got me thinking about how short life is and how important it is to be happy. The problem is, Diary, that I don’t even know how to be happy anymore. I’m not even being a drama queen about this because I have photographic proof that I might be the most unhappy individual in the world. If you Google Image my name, there isn’t a single result that shows me smiling in-character within the first 20 pages of views. Maybe it’s because I never do anything fun. I used to have fun with my brother…before I had to kill him. I could never confide in anyone about how lonely I am all the time, but I would do anything just to have one real friend besides you. God knows that I could use one. Sigh…