The Uphill Slide

There is always something.

Have You Met This Person?


I liked hurting girls.

Mentally, not physically. I never hit a girl in my life. Well, once. But that was a mistake. I’ll tell you about it later. The thing is, I got off on it. I really enjoyed it.

It’s like when you hear serial killers say they feel no regret, no remorse for all the people they killed. I was like that. Loved it. I didn’t care how long it took either, because I was in no hurry. I’d wait until they were totally in love with me. Till the big saucer eyes were looking at me. I loved the shock on their faces. Then the glaze as they tried to hide how much I was hurting them. And it was legal. I think I killed a few of them. Their souls, I mean. It was their souls I was after.

Thus begins Diary Of An Oxygen Thief by Anonymous. A work of fiction. Grabs you. Sadism. Who is this guy? And before you say, “Well, of course it’s a man.” No. Could be a woman. Antisocial Personality Disorder. He doesn’t claim this disorder. That’s me diagnosing him. He blames an addiction. His Da. I claim addiction as a consequence, side effect, symptom of dealing with the disorder. But he’s self-aware. At least that’s something.

That’s what I just read. A quick read. Only 151 pages in my version. Disturbing. One person hurting another with deliberateness and attention to detail and joy. Over and over again with different women. Waiting for a death. Disappointed by resilience. Disappointed even more by forgiveness. And scary, a little recognition of people I’ve met. Recognition after the fact. After the fact? Because at first you’re charmed, drawn in. And then when you’ve been landed. ¬†Wham! Hammer over the head. You totally missed it.

Anonymous. (2006) Diary Of An Oxygen Thief. New York, NY: Gallery Books.

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