I've loved fighting since childhood. It makes no sense - I have the most loving family one could dream of! Lately it's growing disturbingly worse...

I remember punching the hell out of a boy in the nursery, 100% unprovoked, for kicks (I'm a girl). In primary school, provoking older, bigger guys wasn't beyond me - guys, because "normal girls" didn't fight. I gradually dropped the habit. Even chose girl scouts over karate classes. I went full classic nerd, quiet, books, glasses etc., and took out my drives in art.

In secondary school things got a dark turn. I got bullied, getting beaten daily for two years straight. Physically, emotionally, got molested, thrown off the stairs... I never backed down from a fight out of principle, although I knew my efforts looked utterly ridiculous. I even went against a gang of five boys once - by choice. The fighting part always felt great, though the losing part didn't. I also became self-taught in throwing knives. Don't worry, actually cutting someone never crossed my mind, but it was a peculiar hobby for someone who was never before interested in acrobatics. Bullying stopped when I quit reacting to it. I changed school and never provoked a fight again - except for that one time, when a poor mesmerized boy touched my butt. It was a verbal fight, with a huge audience.

Now I'm 32 and I still dream of getting into gang fights. Running. Punching. Going against bullies and winning. And I still play with knives But...

Lately it's grown worse. I'm imagining straight-up killing people. I don't want to actually do it, I hate hurting others (and feel physical pain at the sight of someone suffering - fight bruises don't count), but I still get a sick, needy rush in the thought. I usually imagine doing it in self-defense to make it more justified. At first it was clean, but it's starting to grow disturbingly graphic. I come up with psychopathic, soul-scarring threats to say, and wonder how my friends would react if I straight-out cut the throats of people who'd try to rape me. I really enjoy it - only to feel utterly horrified the next moment. I bounce back and forth between my normal, caring self and a cold, unfeeling, ruthless psycho. And what's worse, there's nothing I can think of that has made my fantasies to escalate like this. Despite being in control of myself, I'm scared I'm turning into a monster.

What is happening to me??? Why??? Am I born to be messed up???