I'm going to guess this is the best place to stick this post.
Basic information: I am 17 years old, two months until 18. Please don't tell me I'm too young to be thinking seriously about this -- I have true concerns. Other relevant information, biological sex is female, but I identify as male, which started about two years ago. Feel free to discuss the morality/immorality or comment on it, I know a lot of people do not support this type of thing and believe it to be some manifestation of severe psychological problems. In my opinion, it's just how I want to be perceived in society, and being a man is how I want to be. That, however, is a tangent. I just realise that it may be relevant.
As the title indicates, I have strong urges to murder people. On the surface, one would think I'm a normal high school student, if not a bit of an introvert. Actually, that's not a definite. I switch very obviously from introvert to extrovert at unpredictable moments. I can be a real crowd pleaser, getting along with (or pretending to get along with) everyone in the room. And two minutes later, I can absolutely hate them all. I'd say I seem normal -- I have dreams of going to university, of becoming a great engineer, maybe making a startup. Or getting an education, at least, and then travelling and really getting the human experience, which I believe can only be understood at its basis by experiencing many different facets of life. I've been waitlisted at two decent unis, which I am not overly concerned by (rejected from MIT, but I'm not surprised considering my poor work ethic during high school). My goals are centred around self-improvement, as many people's are, and I want to do my best and to impact society memorably as well as to enjoy life. I'd consider myself a bit of a dreamer. I'm considered intelligent by many of my teachers, and as someone with great potential. (And yeah, I'm probably a narcissist. Sorry.)
But normality isn't assured... I get constant, very strong urges to murder people. I'm drawn to the dark and the morbid, that's a pattern. I enjoy gore, criminal shows, reading about killers. Albert Fish was a particular favourite to browse through. I'll say right now that I absolutely do not approve of what he did -- in fact, I find his exploitation of children gruesome and 100% unforgivable. But I found his case fascinating, and (admittedly) more than enjoyed the nitty gritty of what was done.... or, more specifically, Fish's capability to do what he did. A person's potential and capabilities are always the most amazing things about them.
It would be too easy to murder someone if I really let myself go. Many times have I looked at a parent toting their child along in the supermarket and thought about how light and easy the little babe would be easy to drag off. Not even drag -- kids are easy to lure off with some sweet words. I imagine how easy it would be to kill them, because they won't scream before it's too late and if I play my cards right.
My imaginings are not limited to children. I've thought often about harming adults, even my own father and occasionally my mother. The kitchen is stocked with knives; it'd be so easy to pick one up and punch a few holes in him before he even wakes up and finds out what's happening. I don't particularly hate my father -- I just get annoyed at him. He's hardly ever home, and when he is, all he does is yell at me. But it's excusable for sure, he works hard as a physician and has to deal with many things.
These "murder thoughts" aren't intrusive, per se. They're meanderings and typical daydreams. I can be in economics, arguing about the evils of capitalism, when my mind drifts off a few moments later to how I would kill everyone in the room and then speed off on a motorbike, weaving through cars and speeding away from the police, fleeing to another country or getting caught and shooting myself in the mouth before I'm forced into court. The mass killings aren't as appealing to me as individual murders. For those, I only really need a face and a small moment of interaction. I can say "hi, sweetie!" to a little girl on the streets, and that's all it takes for me to lay out a detailed plan in my head about how I would commit murder on the spot. Taking into account the area we're in, the available methods to me, how quick her mother would be to notice her absence.
I think no one is overly concerned yet, although there are some concerns that my father has from interacting with me in the mornings. I usually have no filter at all, but in the morning I really don't pick and choose my topics at all, which becomes dangerous easily. The main instance I can think of right now is when I was in the kitchen at 6AM, making coffee in a daze, and my father came down and told me good morning. I turned to him and asked, genuinely, "what if you put zippers in people?" I had been thinking about what would happen if I became a serial kidnapper and, instead of killing people, cut a neat and deep line down the centre of their bodies and installed a zipper in them that would allow me to unzip their skin and look at the insides of their bodies. By 6:45AM, I had come around to the conclusion that it wouldn't work because the skin wouldn't heal around the zipper, and it would be hard to make a zipper that prevented bleeding out. My victims would then be dead, which I wouldn't want.
The thing that usually brings these thoughts to a grinding halt is that in this day and age, there are plenty of cameras around. Too many ways of identifying someone just from a single hair or a fingerprint. I'm worried about leaving such traces behind. I can almost definitely say I won't commit murder, because I think there's so much more to living life than committing and getting my vitality cut short because of prison or death sentence (self-induced or not). I would like to do it, though. I might even enjoy it.
I know that I enjoy burning ants, holding down the lower halves of their bodies, and pulling off their legs and antennae, then smashing their lower halves or severing it and letting them live a while more. I know that I enjoy pulling the legs of big spiders off, even if spiders are some of my favourite creatures in the world and I have 7 jars, each housing a cute spider I found in my garden, around the house. I know that I came down to the kitchen with a jar when I was 11 during a mouse infestation, hoping that I could catch one in my jar and pour rubbing alcohol in, watch the mouse choke inside, and then drop a burning match inside into the alcohol.
I'll now cover some past information, since I believe that that is also relevant. For anyone who thinks it's TLDR, don't bother.
From a young age, I have always dealt with aggression issues. This wasn't unlike most kids, really -- tons of boys my age were willing to throw hands in the courtyard. But as young as third grade, my teacher was giving my mother books on how to deal with aggression in children (girls, specifically). As far back as in kindergarten, however, I was provoking other children my age, shouting, pulling hair and clothes, bringing full soda cans into the playground to throw during fights. I was definitely a bully at one point, to one kid exclusively (but interestingly enough, since high school began and I found that kid at my school, I became good friends with him). I've always been aggressive and prone to my impulses. Talk first, act first, think later. I'm great with logic, testing, and things like that, but usually it doesn't apply to my real life.
As a child, I did experience some childhood problems. My mother was prone to screaming and shouting, she once pushed me down a flight of stairs -- though admitted by accident, though she had lashed out in anger in the first place -- and locked me out of the house once for hours. She overfed me, forcing three bowls of food into me at times when I could only handle a half, and forced me to write "I will not lie" a hundred times when I threw away a little food and told her that I in fact did not.
As I grew up, my parents became concerned with my aggression and transferred me from my public elementary school to a Catholic private school. From hundreds of kids in a school, to a class of 30 (K-8). I hated it, and hated all of them horribly. But like a switch was thrown, my entire personality changed. I became a sweet and polite little Asian girl who bowed to her superiors and focused on nothing but my academics. Then I'd go home, become grim and rude, and go play with matches in my room.
I think those four years in private school affected my considerably. Or at least, it pushed me into the capability for more sudden and deeper mood swings. Now, I am unsurprised when I've been apathetic, and then in seconds suddenly turn so rageful that I have to consciously force myself not to lash out at other people. I experience such swings not only emotionally, but in philosophy and the kind of person I am. My beliefs go from "death sentence and extreme torture should be applied to even lighter crimes" to "crimes should be forgiven, eventually, and brutality does not fix things." I can be very sweet and caring for a few days, and believe wholeheartedly that the world is a wonderful place. And then one day, I've suddenly decided humanity is evil and I wouldn't mind a mass genocide -- in fact, I'd even induce it if I were in a place of power. Or, I can be in my current state, which is completely apathy. I don't care about other people, life is just a flash in the life of the universe, and nothing lasts forever.
I've also self-harmed, though very slightly only when I was 13. I had a razor, and experimented on my shoulder. But while it drew out many small beads of blood, it wasn't serious. I'm sure I didn't go deep enough to get past the surface of my skin. I also became prone to suicidal thoughts, and very nearly committed suicide last year out of self-deprecation and hopelessness.
Since then, I've decided that I like myself too much for dying, and that I still have too much to experience before I end the game... and that feeling depressed about life in America is ridiculous when there are starving children in Africa and children with no limbs. I still have suicidal thoughts from time to time, but they're more casual and curious than anything. My plan to end life is to go out in an interesting way -- pouring gasoline over myself and lighting a match, or jumping off of the highest building when I'm 60 or so and life has come to a close. Again, that's more out of curiosity of "how will it feel?" rather than any particular self-hatred.
That's the backstory of my life, as far as I'm concerned. I can provide any other details if anyone wants them, short of anything that provides enough info to allow the FBI to come knocking on my door. That illegal Minecraft download has been haunting me.
Please, discuss courses of action and what could possibly be wrong with me, what's going on in my head, other cases of this happening. Should I be concerned? Please no "yes/no" answers -- I really am interested in people's full opinions, and in possibly even having some discourse about this.