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no_exit: (▪  when you turn out the light)

even after admitting this,

this confession has meant nothing.

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Created on 2012-01-11 15:09:13 (#1409625), last updated 2012-02-27 (273 weeks ago)

339 comments received, 6 comments posted

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Name:Patrick Bateman
Birthdate:Nov 1, 1980
Location:United States of America
Website:Bret Easton Ellis
I have all the characteristics of a human being: blood, flesh, skin, hair; but not a single, clear, identifiable emotion, except for greed and disgust. Something horrible is happening inside of me and I don't know why. My nightly bloodlust has overflown into my days. I feel lethal, on the verge of frenzy. I think my mask of sanity is about to slip.

My name is Patrick Bateman, and in the year of two-thousand-and-seven I was forty-six years old. I was educated at Harvard, and I worked on Wall Street at a stock brokerage firm called Pierce and Pierce that my father co-founded. I had finally reached a financially stable point in my life that had allowed me to leave one job in order to pursue the interests that had extended beyond New York, and enjoy the fortune I earned to compliment the fortune I was born with.

Once I had the perfect skin and toned figure of a man one third of my age, some would say that I was an egotistical human being. I used to spend hours on my appearance and I disliked it when anything about it became disturbed. My suits were pressed and kept immaculate, and the price of one alone would have fed a third-world country for a year. Don't worry, I used to donate all of the time to charitable organizations. I was in the process of forming my own. See that obsessively perfect exterior. See my charming smile. You will wonder why my estranged (now widowed) wife Jean could have gained the sole custody of our son. She might have told you that I had too many secrets that I never told.

She might say that I was a vacuum, an empty space waiting to be filled by the next batch of impulses driving me forward.

I was perfect. Only that my methods for succeeding were far beyond questionable.

Now, I believe that I am dead.

There is an idea of a Patrick Bateman; some kind of abstraction. But there is no real me: only an entity, something illusory. And though I can hide my cold gaze, and you can shake my hand and feel flesh gripping yours and maybe you can even sense our lifestyles are probably comparable... I simply am not there.

(Mun and muse are well above the age of majority..)


Patrick Bateman, played by Christian Bale, is from the book (and some of the film) American Psycho, The Rules of Attraction, Glamorama, and Lunar Park and is the property of Bret Easton Ellis.
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