Tuesday, June 21, 2005

I'm Glad You're Dead

This is going to be hard for me to write about, but after reading something in this Blog, this amazing blog I decided to let this off my chest. I don't know if this will help me get over these feelings but I've held this in for so long...


When I was about 13, I started a new school because I'd moved in with my dad. That school... I hated it. I'd never experienced anything like it. All the kids had nice clothes and shit and they came from "good" homes. I experienced snobs for the first time. Anyway, being an ugly kid I became outcasted rather quickly. (I've blogged about being bullied as a kid before) Anyway, I ended up getting beat up behind something stupid after school one day and the guy who beat me up dropped it after that. One of the guys who was there to witness the ass whipping though had to talk shit the following day at school. I'll call him S. He turned out to be another bully. He didn't pick on me with force but he did talk shit. He was popular with girls, a sports star, and admired by a multitude of the school's population... I hated him. I hated him for fucking with me and because someone who fucked with me was loved by so many... while I, the one who didn't mess with anyone, was overlooked or ridiculed as if everyone but God hated me... sometimes I even wondered about God.


Well, one day he got into it with this kid that was smaller than him. The kid had courage to stand up to him. In fact, the little kid went to S to settle some shit just because they didn't like each other. On a Saturday, the kid was on his bike and saw S outside with some friends. The kid challenged S to a fight. They got into a fight, and S won. The kid got on his bike, rode for two blocks home, got a gun that he'd found in a ditch in the neighborhood, rode back to where S was, and drew a line on the ground and dared S to cross it. S crossed it and the kid took the gun he had hidden in his pants and shot S in the chest, then took off. S died, at the age of 15, while laying on the sidewalk.


I was glad he was killed. He would never talk anymore shit about me or to me. All the smiling faces that would arise when he would enter the room where now tearful... and I was smiling. "Fuck him", I thought, "He deserved it. I'm glad he's dead." I actually looked up to the kid that shot him. I admired him. He stood up to someone that very few people ever stood up to. I wanted to befriend him, and learn from him. He finished the problem of S... and made sure that it would stay gone. Although there were other kids that picked on me, there was now one less kid. During those somber months at my school, I was happy because everyone else was unhappy, because everyone else took their attention off me and placed it on to their loss. I was glad he died... I was glad he died tragically.


I know it's wrong to have thought that... but my thoughts... I don't know... I couldn't control them. I couldn't control how I felt.

[ TheSaga | 10:11 AM | ]