You don’t love someone once. Love isn’t something you lose. Once it’s born, it stays. Sometimes dormant. Sometimes hidden. But it’s always there.

With no release, my mind cannibalizes itself.

Everyone deserves a chance, deserves sympathy. Even the monsters. Especially the monsters.

The new world would call me unbalanced. The ancients would call me possessed. And that’s what I feel, clawing at the bounds of my ravaged psyche.

Life is too short for judgment, and love is too rare to lose.

I thought it would be difficult to masquerade as a good man, but I’ve found it frighteningly simple.

I promised myself I’d only rid society of the criminals, not the idiots. Maybe I should reassess my reasoning.

They look like they are happy. But I look like I am sane. We both know that’s not true.

But gentlemen don’t f*ck and tell. Or kill and tell. Good thing for you, I’m no gentleman.