here just take it

-	Excerpt from "Sandman; the hourglass murderer." A compilation of works regarding the serial murders carried out by Augustine Rosseau. The following text is quoted from an interview he gave, only days before his execution. --

I once had a diary. I filled it with words from my thoughts. Not sentences, just words. One word repeated exactly thirty-seven times. I found it many years later and that's when I knew I had always been like this. Ever since I was a small child. Every page was written so neatly, not a single spelling mistake could be seen. No smudges, except for those pages where the ink had been dilluted with what I remember to be tears.
Why was I crying? I can't say. The words on these pages mean nothing, they're all words. Meaningless words.
There's an entire page covered in "get"'s that is so damaged by my former selfs tears you can only make out a few of them.
Why did I cover pages in perfectly lined up words? I don't know. But looking at it I began itching to do it again. To write the same word over and over until I had written it exactly thirty-seven times. Unless there wasn't room for more than ninety-six words on the page. Then I would start over again on the next page.

I've always been like this.
Obsessive. Every last detail needs to be the exact way I believe it should be. Clean, lined up, preferrably symmetrical. If it gets really bad; thirty-seven of them. That's how it is with the murders. That's what they are, I know it.
There needs to be thirty-seven of them exactly, then I know I will live the rest of my life out in peace. Free from these intrusive thoughts.

But I'll never get to thirty-seven. I'm going to die at thirty-three. I wish you had caught me sooner. It is truly devastating to stumble this close to the finish line.