by Matthew Molgaard

Created on: April 26, 2010

Losing It

Unfortunately I’m not much of a writer, truth be spoken. But tomorrow I believe I’ll be dead, and I found it only fitting to leave some last attempt at explaining the events of today, May 02, 2010; I’m not certain these words will bestow any relief or closure to the situation at hand, however I do feel I owe a little gratitude to those required to clean my mess; they deserve to hear the truth.

I woke this morning at 5:00 a.m. on the dot, not a minute prior, not a minute after; over the previous five years it had become second nature to me. I shaved my facial hair with great care and intricacy, careful to pin point exact measurements and perfect matches. After shaving, brushing my teeth and donning my black sweat suit I hit the pavement for my morning jog. I ventured my standard three mile trek through the suburban neighborhoods, and I’ll be damned if I didn’t feel great.

Back at home I rid myself of my sweat drenched attire and hit the showers. Within 30 minutes I’d prepared a breakfast comprised of scrambled eggs, three pieces of bacon, three pieces of sausage and toast equipped with I Can’t Believe It’s Not Butter spread in perfect proportions. I ate heartily, returned to the bathroom for another brushing and headed out my front door for a long days work at the local hospital.

That drive to work changed me. That’s when strange things began to occur. I couldn’t keep my eyes on the road. My always steady mind was no longer quite so steady, and I must confess: I began to experience what most physicians (hell, even myself) would label a panic attack. I pulled to the curb midway down Crenshaw Street, and tried valiantly to regain my senses. I shook my head in my hands, and for some awful reason even shed a tear… But she saved me.

She stood across the street, fumbling over a jump rope three feet too long for her tiny frame. I was captivated. In no sexual manner I assure you, no, it was something completely different. An emotion I’d managed to never experience in 32 years of existence. I was hungry, and I hated her for her pure innocence.

I can’t explain what made me do what I did next. I’m not even certain I was of sound mind. But I got out of my car, and I went to my trunk. I pulled out a crowbar, without a hint of hesitation. And I charged that girl. She never saw me coming…but I saw her… I smelled her. I could feel her before I unleashed the first blow

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