Edits by anonymous temporarily disabled.

From Wikipen

There's a lot of people out there. Way too much. I don't know them. They seem so weird I can't really believe they're alive. With thoughts, kids, family, concerns, they're extremely foreign to me. To me as belonging to the human kind. Look at them, look at this one, this man so gray, isn't he funny with this white small cylinder of paper in his mouth, a cigarette. Geez. In his mouth. Tell me about being loathsome. I can't feel any empathy, any sympathy even, toward other people. They can't possibly exist.

For instance, I know for sure, they'll all vanish the exact moment I'll close my eyes for the last time. Everything will disappear. So why bother about them, dirty and mental persons. I'm just gonna load my gun and shoot everywhere, on those pale and not existing faces. And when the blood flows, taints the shirts, runs on the pavement and down the sewers, when it's quiet enough inside my mind, then. Then, I agree it'll be time for the question : was it necessary?