"After many discussions with trusted ASHers, a close friend, and my therapist, I decided the thing to do was... lure him into having these conversations with me so I could ethically report him without involving any other ASHer. The first chat went innocently enough, he only offered to dispose of my body."
That coming from the creator/maintainer/monitor of several groups associated with ASH, alt.suicide.holiday. A woman with a 17 year old daughter discussing a 'sicko' in their midst who was attempting to lure women out with him so he could kill and eat them. Apparently, it's a disgusting, vile thing on the suicide boards to offer to kill people. Death is alright solo... but if you've a partner, *ick*.
It's been a really really fucking long time since I had anything to do with that group. My GOD it's amazing to see how much your mind set can change in a few years. Now this thing makes me want to curl up and cry... or run around and scream. Back then, it was all interesting and informative and worthwhile and good. Right along with every photo of a dead person I could find. Things that rotten.com would never show. The kinds of things that most normal people would be up all night, trying to avoid the thought of. While I was up all night looking for a few more that I hadn't already seen.
Those dead people sites...a few years ago, I'd seen every picture they had to offer. It was all old stuff to me.
And the suicide usenet stuff falls right in line with all of that.
WHY exactly I went through that period... I can't be sure. I used to defend it by saying I was gorging myself on the horrible so I could better appreciate the wonderful. That was bullshit. Some suggested that as part of my self destructive urges I was going out of my way to make my life feel emptier and more fragile. That really wasn't it either, as I felt just fine looking at entrails and crushed skulls. A few others just said I was a sick fucker who liked death, wanted to die, and was just trying to get up the balls to off myself. And ... nah... that wasn't it either.
Parts of all of those are true. I was simply fascinated. In a horrible way, with a horrible thing. I'd already seen a lot of death for a white chick in a lower-middle class neighborhood in VIRGINIA. I'd walked in on bodies. I'd sat at death beds. I'd witnessed police shootings. But somehow, this blatant, gorey anonymous death fascinated me.
And thinking back on it... who the fuck *was* I?
better not to dwell on that.