The Snowflake that is now Dead. (Short Story)

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I sit down on the table, staring at the newspaper. It take my cup of coffee and start drinking it. I do these things every single day. And than it repeats. and repeats. I think I'm crazy, but I just don't know it yet. I can't tell if that's even possible. 

Why am I crazy you might asked? Well first, I changed my name to Scar. Then I moved to the other side of the world, and everyday... I just sit at home, do my work from home, and never go out. I buy take out. I never leave my house. Until yesterday. 

It's winter. The snow was falling, and at my local rink a few meters away from my house, were people ice skating. They all looked so happy, and that's why I wanted to strangle them and make sure they never smile again. 

This is why I'm crazy. I think it's normal to kill people. They'll die eventually, and I could definitely use something to take away stress. I believe even if I did kill someone, I would do it without realizing it, because it's just become apart of my instinct. 

But I wasn't like this forever. I used to be... More.... Fun. Less... Psycho. I used to be an amazing person people would look up to... But my dreams were crushed, by being alive. When you're a kid, you think about how great life will be, until you realize it's terrible. I used to have amazing and big dreams, but they were all destroyed. I used to love being able to hang with friends, until they all left me. It's like I was a force of evil, and everyone tried to stay away, or shame, or upset, or even kill.... Yes, someone tried to kill me once. 

It was the same day as today. November 17. I was walking home after heading to the doctors to get my arm checked after I fell down the stairs. I didn't fall. I was pushed. When I was walking home, a figure stood in front of me. "Go to hell Skint." He than shoot my  in the head at gunpoint. I fainted, and woke up in the hospital. 

The guy was arrested later on. 

Back to me. I really am crazy, I don't think any of you would actually understand. I'm not your typical crazy, I kill people for fun. Well, I wish I could. Why do we get punished for killing people? Isn't it simple human instinct? You probably don't want to anymore about me, maybe just walk away from this story. But trust me, I'm not that crazy. I can still control myself... strike up a conversation...

I'm normal person, the only difference is... is that I have problems. None of them are super big, I don't belong in a mental asylum or something. I finish my coffee and my paper at the same time, and look outside the window. I'm thinking to myself. Yes. That's what I do. Another one of my problems. I think as if I was talking to someone, but I'm the only one here... 

But, living in this ice isn't that bad. I can just dream of killing all the innocent children out there.....