Confessional

It has been a while...over ten years since I last wrote anything at all apart from my signiture. That one single marking is all I have needed since the accident. That one flourish of ink has provided me with the means to survive for over a decade now. This is my story, my voice, my first platform in which I can speak out about my life, my loves (both past and present), my desires and my cravings and lusts.
For so long now I have felt something inside that I could not understand. A longing for that something, until three days ago when my cravings, my lusts and my longing for that something came to pass, and now I will tell you about the blood and about me. My name? My name is not important, but if you like you may call me Zed. Not becuase it is my name, but in referance to the last letter of the alphabet. The forgotten letter, used so little but strong within itself. I have always liked this particular letter. Perhaps because when I think of Zed, I am always drawn to my dreams...the end of conciousness, where reality blurs and I am sometimes given back my control. It was from my dreams where everything began. Where my life changed and I became something more than a mere mortal. In my dreams I could live a life, and not just exist on society's handouts and pity. In my dreams I was someone else, I wasn't me I was Zed. This is my confession, this is my testement, this is my platform where I can tell you how it is and was. This is my life.
Saturday morning, and tonight I am going to do it again. I have found this thing and now I feel as though I have woken up from a long hybernation. I am alive! My destiny has arrived and I have become somthing more. I have morphed, mutated into something more. The blood on my hands, my heartbeat roaring in my ears, the throat closes, the fingers tighten, I can feel my power, I am the lord of my own insanity, the knight of creation. They all stare at me when I walk down the streets during the day time, but come nightfall I will change again. I have been waiting for this all of my life and now...now watch as the sun sets and the moon rises. Watch as the night releases me of my restaints and I become more again. Follow me through this labrynth and I promise you too will change.

It's cold in my council flat.
I haven't had very much money these past few weeks and so the heating has been switched off. I have plenty of duvets and blankets though, and if I wear three jumpers over the top of each other I can make it across the hallway to the toilet without feeling the draught from the broken window in the back bedroom. Kids messing about on the street, the council tell me they will send someone around but so far there has been no knock at my door. It has been over a month now.
The electric is still on though, and when my next disability check comes through I have promised myself an electric heater for these cold nights alone in the dark with just the ticking of the old rusty carraige clock as company. The infrequent midnight traveller zooms past my window and I sit alone, always alone.
It is raining hard outside and the lighning flickers ghosts of my past onto the dark walls. The streetlights have gone out again, the third time since this spring storm began. I watch as the rain distorts the outside world and roll myself a cigarette from my tobacco tin. My fingers are stiff from the cold so my cigarette is not as tight as I usually like it to be. No matter though. I lean forward and light the tip of my rollie with the single candle flame that illuminates my writing. This is the first thing I have written since high school and, if I am honest, it feels a bit strange, creating these markings and squiggles that will be determined by others as language. Some words escape me now, but as I continue I'm sure they will come back.

Becuase last night I killed a man and now there is no going back.

I can't tell you my name, although I wish I could. To tell you the truth there may be a lot of things durating my writings which I can not explain in greater detail to you and for that I apologise in advance. I don't really even know why I am writing this...is it becuase I am now sick of the loneliness? Possibly. You spend so much time with only your own company and it does begin to get a bit lonely. Of course I do have my career, if that's what you call posting letters through doors every morning. I don't. A career is something I always imagined would be something I would have but somewhere along the line I got bogged down in real life. I got chucked out of my house the week I turned eighteen. Nice hey?
Happy birthday son, now fuck off out of the house and don't come back. You've cost us a small fortune all of these years, here's a suitcase, pack your stuff, go down to the council and get a flat, and here, here's this week's job section in the paper. They're recruiting for posties, go and see them.
And so that is what I did, I got the job at the Royal Mail, I would wake every morning early, and spend my life posting letters through total stranger's doors. I'd then get home, and there I would stay. That was my life for a long time but then the 'accident' happened and I had to stay at home full time, losing my job andf self respect and living like an invalid until last night, last night everything changed...forever.