Schizo phrenia

I always praised myself for the lack of feelings and the perfect mimicry of emotions on the other hand. Never felt too lonely, because I thought of myself as of a being created to be with itself exclusively, even amongst people. The usual human cravings for affection never took control over me, still there was something of them in me- curiosity. Then again- curiosity killed the cat, right? So maybe it's a universal characteristic. I did my work with cold professionalism, though it burned me to with desire to get to it and when I finally reached the point of performing my act my whole self with its needs and desires retreated and only curiosity lingered on. Yes, I am what society shall call a "sick bastard". I learned to love myself being this way. One day my typical curiosity lead me on a dangerous path- why not find a partner in sin? Somebody indulging in the same activities. For the pure psychological indulgence of it all!
Of course I could not put up an add in the newspaper " looking for a likewise sick mind", I'd be misunderstood, neither could I be specific with " searching for a comrade serial killer". So instead I just turned to the criminal pages and looked through the black and red headlines. They always made up such absurd and pretentious or distasteful nicknames! I avoided getting stuck to one by choosing my victims in a way hard to trace, changing my methods accordingly to each person. Nevertheless, I had a few people done in the same routine and I got several nicknames- every new one more ridiculous than the previous. The spectrum ranged from The Intestine Mangler to The Suburban Reaper. I got carried away in reminiscing over the past. Bad boy! Anyway, browsing the gazette turned out to be a good idea. I found a name, not a bit hilarious, and investigate by a branch of the police that was in my reach. If I believed in God, I'd say he helped me that day, though he had no reason to. Or maybe it was the Devil.