Love.

Love is a feeling everyone wants. Everyone needs. It doesn't even have to be a feeling, really. Now, I'm not neccesarily talking about the type of love that soppy singers write about, and teenagers angst about. The type of love I'm talking about is the human sentimentality. The need to spread love, to feel love, to be loved, to kill love. A psychologist, Harry Harlow, studied "The Nature of Love" in which he described his findings on comfort deprivation in Rhesus monkeys. He said:
"... Contact comfort was an important basic affectional or love variable.. Insuring frequent and intimate body contact of the infant with the mother"
This implies that to feel loved, the monkey needed a hug, pretty much. The monkey needed to feel that someone loved it. It needed the tender touch of a loving mother. Well, don't we all? Many people who snap don't have anyone to love, to lose. We all ache for a loving touch sometimes. It doesn't have to be from a lover, quite often we just want a hug from a family member. I often find myself aching for someone to hug me, to comfort me, to whisper in my ear "It's all going to be okay." Especially when sick. This, I'm not sure what causes it. I'd love to know. I'd love to grab a mind and pick it apart, finding out exactly what makes someone tick.

More specifically, the mind of a criminal. Oh dear God, I'd love to be given the honour to be called in to inspect a dead body, find out how it died, and deduce from the wounds inflicted on the body what type of criminal we're looking for. The mind of a criminal is a truly wonderful thing, their view on "right" and "wrong" may not always be different, but their view on the world, on people, is.

Oh God, I'm going all creepy now.
Ahem, I shalt depart before I start revealing odd things.
Goodbye, Space Cadets!