Whenever you sit down to watch a show or read a book, you find yourself rooting for the bad guy. Walter White. Norman Bates. Benjamin Linus. Hannibal Lecter. You can relate to them more than any other character. You appreciate their intelligence and can identify with the way that their mind works. You see yourself inside of them. You either want to be their best friend — or you want to be them.
You don’t consider yourself a masochist, because it’s not like you purposely put yourself in painful situations. But you do like the taste of your own blood. You like the feeling of the needle whenever you get a new tattoo. And when you have sex, you like when it’s rough — the type that leaves scratch marks and bruises along your entire body.
You pay a little too much attention to strangers. If you drive past a house and can see straight through the window, you’ll try figure out what they’re watching on television or how many people are in the room. And you’ve been guilty of taking stalker pictures of strangers to show to your friends. There might even be a celebrity that you’re so obsessed with that you can name their birthday, their favorite food, and their home address from off the top of your head.
You have a vivid imagination. That’s why you’re always scribbling weird stories, lyrics, or drawings that expose your dark side. You don’t consider it weird, because you did it ever since you were little. Back when you used to play with Barbies (or G.I. Joes), you would always put them in dangerous situations. And when you played The Sims, the first thing you did was see if it was easier to drown them or set them on fire.
Whenever you’re alone in the car or inside of your room, you end up talking to yourself. You don’t just mutter a phrase or two. You have full-on conversations with yourself. And when you’re in public, you tend to stare at strangers without even realizing it. You also have a habit of eavesdropping on their conversations and imagining what you would say if you were a part of their group. And, of course, you’ve found at least one (fictional) serial killer insanely attractive, although you’d never admit it to anyone except your twin.