Anyone who knows me, or has read my gig here, knows, I have a heart of stone.
I’m impervious to emotion. I barely know my own feelings most of the time.
I am a lump of coal. I love gore. I delight in scenes of death. I depersonalize this world. I have lost sympathy.
So when I soften at a murder, you must pay heed.
I’ve been following the story of Leila Fowler since the weekend. She is the 8-year-old Valley Springs girl in Northern California who was stabbed to death by an intruder on Saturday who was subsequently confronted by the victim’s 12-year-old brother before fleeing. A second witness also described a similar man fleeing the scene.
There is no apparent motive other than robbery in the isolated community in the California Sierra foothills.
There are so many levels of madness. It’s overwhelming. And intoxicating!
Our instinctive moral compass informs us that 8-year-old girls should not bear the brunt of random psychopathy. But alas, they do. We cannot account for human vileness. She was only 8-years-old, man.
Why do we plead with maniacs? This is the pinnacle of insanity, is it not? To do the same thing and expect different results, so they say?
The killer is described as 6′ tall, possibly White or Hispanic, with long gray hair.
This world is fucked up as it is, and now you have to come along and make it worse. I don’t understand, and people like you make me want to understand it less.
We all once knew a greater bliss.