I'm pretty sure I'm messed up in the head somehow.

It began when I was around 7 or 8. I was up at my cousin's barn, and they had a bunch of barn cats that ran around. My cousin climbed up a few hay stacks, and she jumped off of them. A cat ran under her last second, and got it's head crushed by her. I watched it completely spaz it's body out for the last second or two of it's life. Everyone started crying, but I didn't feel sad or anything. I sort of liked it. I don't know why I liked it, but I enjoyed watching it die.

Fast forward some time later, and I still felt the same way. I passed it off as a strong sense of morbid curiosity. I was about 10 at that time, and I thought it was cool to see roadkill or dead animals.

About a year later, nothing had changed. I still loved seeing dead things. I would get these weird dreams where I would see all sorts of dead things in my dreams. It terrified me at first, but I eventually didn't mind it. The dead things in the dreams varied. I would see things like dead mice, dead dogs, and even dead humans.

I was about 13 when this next bit started happening. I started imagining killing people. I often daydreamed what it would be like to beat a fellow 6/7th grader to death. The idea of hurting people thrilled me for some reason. It took me about a year to realize how completely messed up that was, but I was too scared to get help for it. I'm 16 now, and I will randomly get the urge to beat the shit out of a random person walking down the halls of my school or to just hurt people for some reason. I actively hope someone will someday pick a fight with me so I can hurt them. It terrifies me, but I'm too terrified of my parents or friends knowing and treating me differently. This is probably the only real secret I've kept from anyone, and it feels sort of nice to get it out in the open.