I’ve Never Wanted to Kill Anyone. But What If Someone Has Wanted to Kill Me?

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“I’ve never wanted to kill anyone.” But what if someone has wanted to kill me? A disabled author explores the fear and tenderness of living among others.

Introduction | The Chilling Thought That Froze My Heart

I’ve never wanted to kill anyone.

But one day, a thought crossed my mind:

“What if someone has wanted to kill me?”

A shiver ran down my spine.

That moment, I realized just how fragile our boundaries with others really are. Living in society means we’re constantly part of others’ internal worlds—sometimes loved, sometimes ignored, and sometimes… feared or hated.

Chapter 1 | I’ve Never Had Murderous Thoughts. But Is That Really True?

Most of us would say, “I’d never want to kill anyone.”
I used to think that too.

But then I started reflecting:

Have I ever muttered, “I wish that person would disappear” in frustration?
Have I ever resented someone so much I wanted them out of my life?
Have I ever silently cheered when a public figure I disliked was criticized?

Those thoughts may not be acts of violence—but aren’t they the seeds of rejection, of wishing someone didn’t exist?

Maybe the line between those thoughts and murder isn’t as far as we’d like to believe.

Chapter 2 | The Terrifying Possibility of Being Someone’s Target

I live with a severe acquired disability.

Years ago, a cerebral hemorrhage paralyzed the left side of my body. It took ten years of rehabilitation to return to work and some sense of normalcy.

But even now, as a functioning member of society, I sometimes feel an invisible rejection.

People might feel burdened by the accommodations I require.
Some might feel I’m given “special treatment.”
Others may resent that I’m “slowing things down.”

I never asked for this. But sometimes, just existing as a disabled person can make others uncomfortable or hostile.

And that’s when the thought creeps in:
“What if someone has wanted me gone?”

Chapter 3 | When Just Existing Feels Like a Threat

The hardest part of living with a disability hasn’t been the physical pain.

It’s been the quiet moments where I felt like my presence alone was disturbing someone else’s comfort.

Because I needed assistance, I might’ve taken someone’s time.
Because I was included, someone else may have felt left out.
Because I was protected, someone else might’ve felt unfairly treated.

I wasn’t doing anything wrong.
And yet, I felt like I was “taking” something from others—without even realizing it.

Chapter 4 | Facing the Silent Violence

Murderous intent doesn’t always come with knives or fists.
Sometimes, it comes in silence.

A cold stare
A refusal to speak
An atmosphere heavy with discomfort

This kind of non-verbal violence can wound us just as deeply—without a single word.

And yet, those wounds are invisible.
They’re hard to explain.
And often, we end up blaming ourselves for feeling them.

Chapter 5 | Showing You’re Not an Enemy

When we sense hostility from someone, our instinct is to protect ourselves—or fight back.

But sometimes, what the situation really needs is a quiet act of disarming:

Listening without judging
Staying calm and grounded
Creating emotional distance if needed

In a society where everyone is carrying pain, fear, and insecurity, these acts of gentleness can become small acts of peace.

“I don’t want to hurt you”—showing that through words or actions might be our most powerful tool for connection.

Final Chapter | Living with Imagination and Awareness

Here’s something I’ve come to believe:

We are all characters in someone else’s story.

To some, we may be a source of gratitude.
To others, a source of jealousy.
To many, just a passerby.

But we always live in other people’s minds, whether we’re aware of it or not.

What matters isn’t being liked by everyone.
What matters is living with the awareness that everyone carries something—and choosing not to add more pain.