21 Years Old
In August, I continued to build up my faith that I am destined to win the Megamillions jackpot. It is the future that was meant for me; the perfect, happy conclusion to the tragic life I've had to experience in the past. I couldn't wait to rub my status as a wealthy man right in the faces of all the people who looked down on me, and all of the girls who thought of me as unworthy. I mused that once I become wealthy, I would finally be worthy enough to all of the beautiful girls.
I spent the whole month meditating in my room or roaming around the park, visualizing the final outcome of my victory. Through the power of the law of attraction, which I had studied so intensely with the new book I found, I felt certain that I would become the winner. I looked forward to it with profound eagerness.
This was also the last month I had at the apartment unit I was staying in. I was set to transfer to a room in the main complex of Capri Apartments for the next school year. The conflict between Spencer and I had calmed down over the summer. He brought a few girls to his apartment, but they were all ugly, so I tried not to get jealous. I still hated him for the fact that he was able to witness how lonely and miserable my life was. I had spent an entire year in Isla Vista, Santa Barbara, and I had not had a single girl into my apartment. The pure rage and hatred I felt over that fact was enough, but to have someone like Spencer in my vicinity to judge me on it was salt on the wound. I made plans to track Spencer down once I become wealthy and arrogantly show off my new life to him. That would be the only way to get even. I wanted to show to Spencer, to show to the whole WORLD, that I had worth.
I didn't think much about my imminent move to a new room, nor did I think much about who my new housemates would be. I firmly believed that I would win the lottery before then. I would then go back to my mother's house, show her my ticket, and buy a mansion of my own to begin a new life of heavenly bliss. One could say that I was being delusional, but my desperation for happiness was so intense that I wanted to believe that this was true. I wanted to believe that I had the POWER to invoke this into my reality. I have craved power and significance all my life, and I will stop at nothing to find ways of attaining it.
Before I knew it, my lease at my current room ended, and on September 5th, I transferred to the new room. Spencer and I didn't deign to say goodbye to each other, we despised each other that much. I knew I would see him again, when I track him down to show off my wealth that I firmly believed I would attain.
I found out that my new apartment in the main complex of Capri was the same exact apartment unit that I stayed in for the first month I had in Santa Barbara: apartment #7 on Seville Street. When I moved all of my belongings in, it was all empty. The manager told me that two housemates would be moving into the second bedroom within two weeks hence. I trusted that the manager had the sense to pair me with mature people, knowing my experiences with those two barbaric housemates I had to deal with a year previously.
By the time I moved in, the jackpot had finally risen over $100 million. This was the moment of truth. I had been waiting all summer for this to happen. Overcome with trepidation, I spent the next week in my new room, meditating and visualizing winning the lottery very soon. I could feel the excitement I would feel once I see the six numbers on my ticket match the numbers that would be drawn. I imagined myself jumping up and down with joy once my victory was confirmed.
On September 11th, the drawing for a jackpot worth $120 million commenced. I bought a five dollar ticket and proclaimed that this had to be mine. When I saw that the winner was from California, my heart beat like a drum. This was it. Fate was being decided right at that moment.
I didn't win. I looked at my ticket over and over again, and then at the winning numbers. No match. It was just like what happened in March, except this was worse because I had built up anticipation for the entire summer. The winner was some guy from Riverside. He took MY money. What a waste. What an injustice. I was so certain that the universe would finally grant me salvation after a life of torture and suffering. I then looked at my small, cramped room and realized that my lonely, depressing life of virginity will continue on mercilessly.
That night, I threw a wild tantrum, screaming and crying for hours on end. I had the whole apartment to myself, so there was no one there to hear me. I raged at the entire world, thrashing at my bed with my wooden practice sword and slashing at the air with my pocket knife. I even downed an entire bottle of wine, and got so drunk that I spilled my wine all over my laptop, permanently destroying it. I soaked my pillow with tears as I drifted off to sleep in my lonely bed.
On the next morning, I felt so drained and depressed. I then realized that I destroyed my laptop, so I called my mother, begging her to buy me a new one. I made up the story that the laptop randomly died and I had no control over it. After some persuading, I managed to make her agree to buy me a new one.
I quickly drove to Best Buy to look for a new laptop, and decided to choose a newer, updated version of the Asus laptop I had previously. As it turned out, the Best Buy in Santa Barbara didn't have one in stock, so I had to drive all the way to Oxnard to pick one up. I paid the $1500 dollars for it, with the a**urance that my mother will drive up to bring me a reimbursement in a few days.
I had to wait a few hours for them to prepare the laptop for me, and while I waited I decided to go to the shooting range in Oxnard. I had the knowledge, in the back of my mind, that the Day of Retribution was very possible now. Going to the shooting range while I waited for my laptop gave me the perfect opportunity to gain some initial training in shooting guns, which will be the main weapons I use as vengeance against my enemies when the Day of Retribution ultimately comes to pa**. I walked into the range, rented a handgun from the ugly old redneck cashier, and started to practice shooting at paper targets. As I fired my first few rounds, I felt so sick to the stomach. I questioned my whole life, and I looked at the gun in front of me and asked myself “What am I doing here? How could things have led to this?” I couldn't believe my life was actually turning out this way. There I was, practicing shooting with real guns because I had a plan to carry out a ma**acre. Why did things have to be this way, I silently questioned myself as I looked at the handgun I was holding in front of me. I paid my fee and left the range within minutes, feeling as if I was going to be sick. I spent the rest of the waiting period at the Coffee Bean in Oxnard, where I sat by myself feeling absolutely disgusted. My whole world was twisted.
Within the following days, I spent a lot of time at the park, watching the wind blow through the trees and the children playing in the fields. I questioned the very fabric of reality. Why did this all exist? I wondered. How did life come to be? What was the nature of reality? What was my place in all of it? There was no point to my life anymore. I was never going to lose my virginity. I was never going to get a girlfriend. Because girls are repulsed by me, I was never going to have children and pa** on my genes. The only way that I could have been worthy enough to beautiful girls is if I become wealthy at a young age, and the faith I had in that happened had just been crushed. There was no hope left.
The life I could have had ceased to exist. I will never have s**, never have love, never have children. I will never be a creator, but I could be a destroyer. Life had been cruel to me. The human species had rejected me all my life, despite the fact that I am the ideal, magnificent gentleman. Life itself is twisted and disgusting, I mused. Humans are brutal animals. If I cannot thrive among them, then I will destroy them all. I didn't want things to turn out this way. I wanted a happy, healthy life of love and s**. But if I'm unable to have such a life, then I will have no choice but to exact revenge on the society that denied it to me.
My new housemates moved into the other room of my apartment at the end of September. They didn't know each other before they moved in, which was better for me because then they wouldn't gang up on me. Not like they would do such a thing anyway, since my two new housemates were both timid, geeky types. One of them was a funny-looking curly haired boy named Chris Rugg, and the other was an Asian American named Jon. After the first few days of their stay, I felt content with these new housemates. They were quiet, respectful, and very friendly. And best of all, they never invited any friends over. I doubt they even had any friends. All they did was stay in their room and played video games all day. Of course, I had no desire to be friends with them, because they had absolutely nothing to offer, but I knew I would have no problems with them in my apartment, and that was the best I could hope for.
On Halloween weekend, I made the wise decision to go home to my mother's house. There was no way I was going to torture myself by staying alone in my room while the entire town of Isla Vista erupted in raucous debauchery. All of the tall, hunky jocks that girls love so much will be having all of the s** and all of the fun, while an unwanted outcast like myself would rot in loneliness. I imagined that some attractive guys who only visited Isla Vista for the Halloween event will be getting laid that weekend. They'd be getting s** from just one night in Isla Vista, while I'm still a virgin after living there for over a year. It was too unfair. I wanted to punish them all. I imagined how sweet it would be to slaughter all of those evil, s*utty b**hes who rejected me, along with the fraternity jocks they throw themselves at. To see them all running from me in fear as I k** them left and right, that would be the ultimate retribution. Only then would I have all the power. They treated me like an insignificant little mouse, but on the Day of Retribution, I would be a God to them. They will be the mice, and I will be the predator. I considered setting the date for the Day of Retribution to be the next Halloween of 2013. That would give me a year to prepare, but I soon dismissed it. If the Day of Retribution were to happen, it would have to be on a normal weekend. There would be too many cops walking around during an event like Halloween, and cops are the only ones who could hinder my plans.
I spent the time at mother's house relaxing and trying to forget about Halloween. I drank some of my mother's delicious wine until I was too buzzed to think about how much fun everyone else my age was having on that night.
I didn't even bother to register for college cla**es that semester. There was no point. I believed that I would either fulfill my dream of becoming wealthy at a young age in order to be worthy enough to attract beautiful women, or exact my revenge upon the world and die in the process to escape punishment. There was no other path for me.
Of course, I “registered” for some cla**es, but only to keep up the pretense to my parents that I was still attending college. If they somehow found out that I had dropped my cla**es right after registering for them, they would have stopped all of their support for me, and my life would have to end right then and there. Thankfully, I was a good liar.
During the Autumn of 2012, I had all the time in the world to figure out how I was going to triumph against the society that was torturing me. I spent a lot of time at the library in Goleta, just a few miles away from Isla Vista. At the library, I read countless books on history, business, and philosophy, learning as much as I could. It was better than staying at home in my room. Besides, I didn't want my housemates to find out that I wasn't going to college. That would be embarra**ing, and I always cared about what others thought about me, even my nerdy housemates.
I continued to visit the website of the Megamillions lottery. I still clung to the hope that it may rise above $100 million again and I would be the winner. So far, I saw that as my only way out of my horrible situation.
My situation was indeed horrible. I couldn't leave the house without seeing a young couple walking around somewhere. Everywhere I went, I was all by myself, while other young people had friends and girlfriends. I was ashamed to show myself to the world. Even though I wore expensive designer clothes, what was the point if girl's still weren't attracted to me? No one respects a man who is unable to get a woman. A man wearing shorts and a T-shirt would be seen as superior to me if he walks into a store with a beautiful girl on his arm and I walk in all alone. A man having a beautiful girl by his side shows the world that he is worth something, because obviously that beautiful girl sees some sort of worth in him. If a man is all alone, people get the impression that girls are repulsed by him, and therefore he is a worthless loser.
I saw winning the lottery as the only way out, and I became so frustrated when the Megamillions jackpot kept resetting. In the end of November, the jackpot was very close to getting high enough, but then it sank to the bottom once again. It was at this point that I learned about the Powerball lottery. The Powerball hadn't yet come to California, so I knew nothing about it before. I looked at the website and saw that the jackpot was over $500 million!
California didn't have a Powerball lottery, so in order to buy a ticket, I would have to drive all the way to Arizona.
Earlier in that day, as I drove through Isla Vista, I saw this one particular young couple that stood out from the rest only because the girl looked absolutely perfect. She was tall, blonde, and s**y. She would have towered over me in height, and her boyfriend of course towered over her. They were both wearing beach gear, and the girl was in her bikini, showing off to everyone her sensual, erection-causing body. Her blonde hair was wet from swimming in the ocean, and it only made her look more arousing. The two of them were holding hands, and it was clear that they were in love. I saw the boyfriend place his hand on the girl's a**, and when he did this the girl looked at him and smiled with delight. That guy was in heaven. I can only imagine how amazing it must be to have s** with a girl like that. I had to witness everything I wanted but could not have. It made me feel dizzy with anguish.
I immediately thought about that couple, and how impossible it was for me to have the same experience as that guy. Impossible, as I was at that point. But it would be possible for me to get a tall, blonde, s**y girlfriend if I was a multi-millionaire! Oh yes, it would be very possible. Becoming a multi- millionaire is the ONLY way I could have such an experience, and winning the lottery was the ONLY way I could become a multi-millionaire at my age. As I stared at the Powerball jackpot that was over $500 million, I knew that I HAD to win it.
It was midnight when I had this revelation, and the drawing was on the following day. The only way I could get a ticket before the drawing was if I left for Arizona right then and there. And so that is exactly what I did. I quickly looked up the best route on Google Maps, packed some food into my backpack, and took off.
The sun rose as I crossed the long stretch of desert in between Palm Springs and the border of Arizona. It was one of the most beautiful things I had ever seen. When I saw the sun creeping up before me in the horizon, igniting the clouds with its orange glow, I proclaimed that sunrise as the sunrise of my destiny. I was riding towards my destiny, to obtain the record-breaking Powerball ticket of $500 million!
As I drove, I thought about every event in my life that led up to that journey. I considered that journey as the ultimate culmination of the tragic suffering and s**ual starvation I had to go through for so long. That Powerball jackpot was meant for me. Once I won it, I'd be able to have my beautiful blonde girlfriend, I'd be able to show the world that girls consider me worthy, I'd be able to show the world how superior I am. And of course, I would be able to live above everyone who has wronged me, and rub it all in their faces as a form of gratifying vengeance. That was my ultimate purpose in life, my reason for living.
I didn't win. It was almost the same scenario that I suffered through in March, except this one was twice as devastating. When I finally arrived home from the long trip, I immediately went to bed after not sleeping for so long. It was very difficult to stay awake on the road, but I managed to do it due to the severe importance of the journey. The Powerball drawing occurred while I slept, and my last thought before drifting off to sleep was that when I woke up, I would be a multi-millionaire, and my life would be saved. I slept for a very long time, and when I awakened it was already the morning after the drawing. I was overcome with anxiety. I was so confident and certain that I would win before the drawing occurred, but once that point in time had pa**ed, I feared the result. I feared that I might not have won. I spent the next three days in my room, trying to garner enough courage to check the winning numbers that would determine my fate. After realizing how much time I was wasting, I visited the Powerball website to see the result. At the very first second of viewing the webpage, I caught a brief glimpse of it before closing it out of fear and panic. In that brief glimpse, I saw that there were three winning tickets, and one of them was in Arizona! My heart started beating rapidly. That had to be me! I thought, with hope and excitement welling up inside my whole body.
There was an Arizona winner, and I had bought my ticket in Arizona. After that long, emotional journey; driving toward the sunrise in the middle of the desert, fighting off sleep just to get there in time, visualizing my whole future before me, with a beautiful blonde girlfriend and the children I would have with her... After all that, who else could the winner be but me? It was meant for me. It was fate, destiny. I took out my tickets, of which I had purchased fifty, and sifted through them to find the one that matched the winning numbers. I felt dizzy and ecstatic as I did it, feeling so certain that my victory will be confirmed. When I reached the end of my stack of tickets, I didn't find any that matched. For the first few moments, I couldn't even believe what was happening. I looked through all of my tickets again and again and again, and still, nothing. I didn't win.
I sat very quiet and still in my desk chair for a long time, all of the emotion swept out of me. I didn't react with rage or anguish. I just sat there, cold and dead, mentally trying to contemplate what I had just done. I had driven all the way to Arizona just to buy lottery tickets, because I was so desperate for a happy life in which girls would be attracted to me; I was so certain I would win, building up all that hope, only to have it shattered right before me at just that moment.
I then drove out of my apartment and made my way to the Girsh Park. I had to be somewhere peaceful. Along the way, I saw couples strolling along the streets of Isla Vista, walking arm in arm; I saw groups of good looking young people walking together, laughing and enjoying each other's company. I felt completely dead inside, and torment racked my entire body, as I realized that I now had no chance to rise above them. I lost.
When I got to the park I sat in my car for hours, crying and crying and crying. I wailed with agony. My tears streamed down my face and stained my collar. I couldn't take it anymore. Feeling the need to talk to someone, I called the only people I had in my life: My parents. I called them both, first my mother and then my father, and I told them both how much I was suffering from my loneliness, and my utter realization that I had no hope of ever having a happy life. I told them that they must be ashamed of me, that I was a 21 year old virgin who is unable to get a girlfriend or making any friends whatsoever. I was not the son any parent would want. My tantrum to my parents on the phone deeply disturbed them, and they arranged for me to see my psychiatrist, Dr. Charles Sophy, when I return home for the winter break.
As the phrase that I had coined goes: If I cannot join them, I will rise above them; and if I cannot rise above them, I will destroy them. I've been trying to join and be accepted among the beautiful, popular people all my life, but it was to no avail. They have always treated me like scum. Girls have always deemed me unworthy of their love and s**. I tried to overthrow them by gaining wealth at a young age, from trying to come up with invention ideas, to contemplating writing an epic story, and finally to trying to win the lottery. At this point, the prospect of overthrowing them seemed hopeless. The final solution to triumph over my enemies was to destroy them, to carry out my Day of Retribution, to exact my ultimate and devastating vengeance against all of the popular young people who never accepted me, and against all women for rejecting me and starving me of love and s**.
At this point, it fully dawned on me that the possibility of having to resort to exacting this Retribution was more real than ever before. Without the prospect of becoming wealthy at a young age, I had nothing to live for now. I was going to be a virgin outcast forever. I realized that I had to start planning and preparing for the Day of Retribution, even though I hadn't yet had any idea of what day that would be.
My first act of preparation was the purchase my first handgun. I did this quickly and hastily, at a local gun shop called Goleta Gun and Supply. I had already done some research on handguns, and I decided to purchase the Glock 34 semiautomatic pistol, an efficient and highly accurate weapon. I signed all of the papers and was told that my pickup day was in mid-December. That fell in nicely, because that was when I was planning on staying in Santa Barbara till. After I picked up the handgun, I brought it back to my room and felt a new sense of power. I was now armed. Who's the alpha male now, b**hes? I thought to myself, regarding all of the girls who've looked down on me in the past. I quickly admired my new weapon before locking it up in my safe and preparing to go back to my hometown for the winter break.
I didn't attend the Lemelson's Christmas party that year, nor would I ever again. The only person I ever really hung out with at those parties was James, and James was no longer my friend. It would have been extremely awkward to be there while James is there, knowing that the two of us, who used to be old friends since first grade, would be avoiding each other. It would be a foul and bitter experience, and I had already gone through enough anguish in the last few months.
A few days before Christmas, I took off with my mother and sister for another vacation in England. She had called me a month previously to tell me about it. At first, I didn't want to go, knowing that I will feel miserable about going on a vacation without a girlfriend to experience it with me, along with the shame of having to once again appear to my relatives in a fashion that I was unsatisfied with. A year had pa**ed since the last trip, and I was in exactly the same position in life. I had nothing for my grandmothers to be proud of. No girlfriend, no future prospects, no life at all to talk about.
The one thing that persuaded me to go was the fact that my mother planned to have us travel on Virgin Atlantic Upper Cla**, the highest form of travel the airline offers. I hadn't traveled First Cla** for a long time, and I just couldn't refuse such an offer. I have always had a penchant for luxury, opulence, and prestige; and traveling on Virgin Atlantic Upper Cla** would give me that experience, if only for a short time. After all of the anguish I had been through, I figured I needed a sense of respite by going on this luxurious vacation. For just this one brief period of my life, since I speculated that my life could very well be ending soon, I decided to try my best to forget about everything and indulge myself in every way I could on this trip to England.
Before we took off, we spent some time at the exclusive Upper Cla** lounge at the LAX airport. There was a buffet with all sorts of goodies for me to pick at, and I had my fill of smoked salmon and champagne. While there, I had a discussion with my mother about whether I had any more hope in my life, and what I could possibly do to get what I want in life.
As holders of First Cla** tickets, we skipped to the front of the line as we boarded the plane, and I took great satisfaction as I pa**ed by all of the other people who flew economy, giving all of the younger pa**engers a co*ky little smirk whenever they looked at me. Once I had settled in my big, luxurious bed- seat in the First Cla** cabin, I had even more champagne, followed by an exquisite dinner of steak and potatoes, and some red wine to wash it all down. I ordered gla** after gla** of red wine during the whole ride, and became quite drunk as I watched a few movies, one of them being the new Ice Age movie which I found quite funny.
When we arrived, we were chauffeured in a limousine to our hotel in Colchester. This time, we stayed at the Holiday Inn, which was very similar to the hotel on the last trip. Our relatives, even Ah Mah who rarely left the house in her old age, came to our hotel to greet us. We then went to their house, where Aunt Min had cooked a nice dinner for us. I felt so amazed to be back in England again. It had been a whole year since the last trip, but I felt as if nothing had happened. Nothing had improved in my life, that's for sure. I was in the exact same position as I had been on the year before, and a year before that... and so on. I was now a 21-year-old virgin, still suffering the same injustices of the world. I tried not to think about it, for the sake of enjoying my trip, but the angst was too overwhelming.
Our hotel served the same type of exquisite breakfast buffet as the hotel we stayed in last year, and once again I took delight in indulging in the endless amounts of pork sausages, croissants, ham, bacon, and every other delectable treat at the buffet; every single morning. For this vacation, I mostly stayed at the hotel, relaxing and trying to establish a sense of peace and serenity.
When my family went on a tour through London, I refused to go. There was no point. I would just be miserable from having to be alone while other men walked around there with girlfriends. I proclaimed to them all that I will never go for a night out in London unless I had a beautiful girlfriend on my arm. While they were in London, I stayed at the relative's house with my grandma Ah Mah. Ah Mah cooked me a delicious dinner, just like she did when I was a little child living in the Old Rectory in England. I drank a whole bottle of wine that night, and I was quite drunk by the time they came back from London.
We did manage to visit grandma Jinx during this trip. Before we left back to America, uncle Andrew drove us to Smarden, Kent to visit her at her house. I hadn't been to grandma Jinx's house since I was ten years old, and it looked exactly the same. Grandma Jinx asked me a lot of questions about my life, as she always did. I had to stiffly pretend that everything was going well, and it pained me that I had nothing going for me to boast about. I hated being the shameful grandson. I bet cousin George was living a better life than me. I'm sure he had a lot to say that made grandma Jinx proud.
All in all, it was a relaxing, peaceful, and luxurious trip. I didn't regret going. From the way my life was going, I needed something like that to fill in as one my last few enjoyments. On the way home, we spent time at the Upper Cla** lounge at Heathrow Airport, and this lounge was even more impressive than the one in LAX. They had all sorts of luxury food, and a whole bar full of every drink one could imagine. On the way home, I had multiple gla**es of red wine again before drifting off to a nice, drunken sleep. As we were about to land in L.A., our plane hovered around the city for a while, waiting for the traffic on the runway to clear up below. While the plane hovered, I filmed a few videos of the entire city of L.A. It was quite an experience, to look down upon such a city. Everything looked so small, and the people and cars looked like little insects. I briefly fantasized about being a god as I looked down upon them all. I imagined having the power to destroy everything below with destructive, supernatural powers. It made for a fine scenario, worthy of being discussed with James Ellis, if only he were still my friend.
On New Year's Eve, I stayed at my mother's house, feeling lonely and miserable. I believe father and Soumaya went to Antje Twinn's house again. There was no way I would go there again after the incident that occurred the year before. I found it quite hilarious that everything during this holiday was playing out just the same way as it played out in the previous year; the trip to England, father and Soumaya attending the same party at the Twinn's house, my same miserable, lonely, virgin status. Indeed, my life was moving in vicious circle of torment with no way out. The only thing that got me through it all was my hope that there was a way out, and that hope had been shattered too many times. I couldn't live like this anymore. I knew that if things continue to be the same, I would have to carry out my ultimate Retribution and die in the process. I didn't want to die. I fear d**h, but d**h is better than living such a miserable, insignificant life.
I remained in my hometown for a couple of weeks, and then I went back to Santa Barbara, the place of beauty and romance that I've had to suffer in lonely hell. I only signed up for online cla**es for the Spring semester, but that was only to placate my parents. I didn't see the point in even bothering with college anymore. Having to walk through SBCC with all of those beautiful girls strutting around in their revealing shorts, showing off their s**y legs... It is torture, because I know that they would all reject me.
There are so many beautiful girls in Santa Barbara, but not one of them ever wanted to be my girlfriend. Life would have been so perfect there if only girls were attracted to me.
For the month of January 2013, I stayed in my room all the time, a**essing my situation. I brooded and contemplated about everything. I could hear all of those happy young people partying and enjoying themselves as the new semester came to a start. I mused that I should be out there, experiencing a happy, healthy college life with a group of friends, meeting up with girls and sleeping with them, just like all other guys did in college. I thought about how it was almost two years since I had moved to Santa Barbara, and that only made my rage and frustration grow. As I listened to all of those young people having so much fun right outside my window, my hatred of them all for not accepting me only festered and boiled inside me, filling me with immense pain.
At one point, I looked out my window and saw couples strolling around the street, on their way to some party. They probably slept with each other that night. The sight made me feel so inferior, like a little mouse. I felt like I was at the bottom of the food chain. I couldn't fathom how I had to endure such a painful life. On that same night, I looked at the Powerball again, and saw that the jackpot had risen to over $100 million. This prompted me to drive to Arizona again, in another desperate attempt to become instantly wealthy so that I could attract beautiful girls and live the life I want. After all of the rejection and mistreatment I've experienced at the hands of women, I knew that becoming wealthy was the only way I could become worthy of them, and so my obsession with becoming wealthy at a young age came back in full force for the first few months of 2013.
By the month of April, I had driven to Arizona three more times, making a total of four trips to Arizona in my lifetime, just to buy lottery tickets out of intense desperation, believing it to be my only hope of attaining the life I desire, the life I know I'm worthy of. I kept dreaming of the life I would have once I won; the beautiful blonde girlfriend, the luxurious mansion with a magnificent view, all of the exotic cars I would drive to impress girls. It gave me hope. It gave me something to live for.
That hope was shattered after each attempt. None of the tickets I bought on those trips fulfilled my dreams. The reason I kept going, even after I didn't win, was because I truly believed I was supposed to win. I wanted to believe it because I wanted something to live for. I needed to have hope. I knew that if I lost all of my hope, I would have nothing to live for but revenge. Any chance of having a happy life would be doomed.
At the end of March, when I checked my last set of tickets that I had bought from my last trip to Arizona, and saw that I didn't win, any hope I had of becoming wealthy at a young age was finally and indefinitely shattered. It fully dawned on me that the life I had envisioned for myself would never come to pa**. The children I would have in the future with a beautiful blonde girlfriend ceased to exist, as if they were murdered. There won't be any beautiful blonde girlfriend for me now. No girl would be my girlfriend unless I had great wealth... I learned that from my life of being rejected. I was doomed to a life of lonely virginity.
In April, the Powerball lottery was introduced in the state of California, so if I ever wanted to play it again I would no longer have to drive to Arizona. However, I was so shaken by not winning in the last few months that I gave up on it for a while, but eventually I would have episodes of little surges of hope in which I'd buy a few tickets, just to have something to hope for as I endure the last few months of my torturous life. All of those little surges of hope, of course, would be shattered as well.
During this Spring of 2013, I began to seriously think about planning the Day of Retribution. My next step towards planning for it was to buy my second handgun, a Sig Sauer P226. It is of a much higher quality than the Glock, and a lot more efficient. In turn, it was also a lot more expensive. My Glock 34 was around $700 dollars, whereas my new Sig Sauer P226 was $1100.
These prices were of no concern to me, however. When I first moved to Santa Barbara and experienced all of those horrible revelations about the nature of humanity, I knew that something like the Day of Retribution could very well happen if the world continued to mistreat me. I began to carefully save up all of the money that my parent's and grandmothers were sending me. It was an ample amount to live on, leaving me with a lot left over to build up in my bank account. When I hit the $5000 dollar mark, which was fairly soon after my move to Santa Barbara, I decided never to go under it, deeming that $5000 was enough to buy all of the supplies and equipment I would need if I had to do something like this. The Day of Retribution had always been in the back of my mind as a final solution if all else failed in my life, ever since I had moved to Santa Barbara. As it so happened, all else did indeed fail. Women continued to reject me and mistreat me, and I remained an unwanted virgin.
For the last months of Spring, I went home a lot because the loneliness in Santa Barbara was too stifling. Going home to visit my parents was always an emotional refuge for me. During these trips home, I spent a lot of time with my little brother Jazz. My father let me drive his Mercedes SUV while I was in town, and I often took Jazz on outings with it. On these outings, I began to really bond with the boy. We went to places like Barnes & Noble, the playground at the park, and local cafés where I treated him to coffee and pastries. The parks I took him to were Serrania Park and the Woodland Hills recreation center. I like to watch him play in the playground at these parks, because those were the exact same playgrounds I played in when I was his age... When my life as actually happy. As I watched him, I dreamed about that happy life I used to live, before my whole world turned to darkness.
I realized how much different my brother Jazz was from me at that age. While I was shy, short, and physically weak; Jazz was tall for his age and very social. He had no problem going up to other boys at the playground and making instant friends. I began to form a bitter envy towards him, though I hid it really well. My little brother had all the potential to grow up to be a popular kid and live the life I was never able to live. I cursed the world for granting my little brother Jazz so many more advantages than me. I tried not to let this ruin my relationship with him. My little brother really looked up to me. He was one of the few people who treated me with adoration, and that made me feel at least a small twinge of self-worth. It was quite surprising that he respected me so much, since I had nothing in my life to boast about to him. He even asked me once if I had ever had a girlfriend, and I angrily told him that the matter was none of his concern. I didn't want to admit to him that girl's thought I was a loser. If he found out about that, he would respect me less. In order to boost his high opinion of me, I often sugarcoated all of my early accomplishments, such as telling him that I was an expert skateboarder and video game player.
People having a high opinion of me is what I've always wanted in life. It has always been of the utmost importance. This is why my life has been so miserable, because no one has ever had a high opinion of me. My little brother Jazz was the only one who had such an opinion, and that is why I enjoyed spending so much time with him, despite my envy of his social advantages.
During one of my frequent visits home in late Spring, I reunited with my old friends Philip and Addison. I hadn't seen them since the night I emotionally cried in front of them at the Getty museum in the beginning of 2012. This reunion was sparked by the political and philosophic conversations I had been having with Addison over Facebook.
I decided to meet them at Philip's house, where we would make plans for an outing around Malibu and L.A. I brought my father's Mercedes SUV to use as our mode of transportation. First, we went to Point Dume in Malibu, where Addison used to live. Going there brought back bitter memories of my previous conflict with Addison. The three of us hiked to the very tip of Point Dume, where there was a cliff that overlooked the beach.
After Malibu, we decided to have dinner at the BOA Steakhouse in Santa Monica. Driving through Santa Monica was an extremely infuriating experience, just like it had always been. There were so many good looking young couples walking about, enjoying the pretty night life that the attractive city had to offer. Groups of young people walked about in their little cliques. It reminded me to State Street in Santa Barbara, as well as Isla Vista. As I watched all of those obnoxious boys walking around with their beautiful blonde girlfriends, I wanted to run them all over with my father's Mercedes SUV. I fantasized about how delightful that would be. To literally crush their lives to a pulp, just like they had crushed mine. I tried as hard as I could to hide my envy-fueled rage from Philip and Addison. Philip was easy to fool, but Addison could tell how enraged I was. Addison knew me all too well.
In Santa Barbara, I spent almost all of my time in my room, brooding. I began building on all of my philosophical views and theories about the world. I had to question why things were the way they were. The world is so twisted, and I wanted answers.
I hated all of those obnoxious, boisterous men who were able to enjoy pleasurable s** lives with beautiful girls, but I hated the girl's even more, because they were the ones who chose those men instead of me. It was their choice. They are the ones who deprived me of love and s**.
My hatred and rage towards all women festered inside me like a plague. Their very existence is the cause of all of my torture, pain and suffering throughout my life. My life turned into a living hell after I started desiring them when I hit puberty. I desire them intensely, but I could never have them. I could never have the experience of holding hands with a beautiful girl and walking on a moonlit beach, I could never embrace a girlfriend and feel her warmth and love, I could never have pa**ionate s** with a girl and drift off to sleep with her s**y body beside me. Women deemed me unworthy of having them, and so they deprived me of an enjoyable youth, while giving their love and s** to other boys. In all of those years I suffered a life of s**ual starvation and unfulfilled desires. I will never get those years back. My life has been wasted, all because women hate me so much.
All I had ever wanted was to love women, but their behavior has only earned my hatred. I want to have s** with them, and make them feel good, but they would be disgusted at the prospect. They have no s**ual attraction towards me. It is such an injustice, and I vehemently questioned why things had to be this way. Why do women behave like vicious, stupid, cruel animals who take delight in my suffering and starvation? Why do they have a perverted s**ual attraction for the most brutish of men instead of gentlemen of intelligence?
I concluded that women are flawed. There is something mentally wrong with the way their brains are wired, as if they haven't evolved from animal-like thinking. They are incapable of reason or thinking rationally. They are like animals, completely controlled by their primal, depraved emotions and impulses. That is why they are attracted to barbaric, wild, beast-like men. They are beasts themselves. Beasts should not be able to have any rights in a civilized society. If their wickedness is not contained, the whole of humanity will be held back from advancement to a more civilized state. Women should not have the right to choose who to mate with. That choice should be made for them by civilized men of intelligence. If women had the freedom to choose which men to mate with, like they do today, they would breed with stupid, degenerate men, which would only produce stupid, degenerate offspring. This in turn would hinder the advancement of humanity. Not only hinder it, but devolve humanity completely. Women are like a plague that must be quarantined. When I came to this brilliant, perfect revelation, I felt like everything was now clear to me, in a bitter, twisted way. I am one of the few people on this world who has the intelligence to see this. I am like a god, and my purpose is to exact ultimate Retribution on all of the impurities I see in the world.
The Spring of 2013 was also the time when I came across the website PUAHate.com. It is a forum full of men who are starved of s**, just like me. Many of them have their own theories of what women are attracted to, and many of them share my hatred of women, though unlike me they would be too cowardly to act on it. Reading the posts on that website only confirmed many of the theories I had about how wicked and degenerate women really are. Most of the people on that website have extremely stupid opinions that I found very frustrating, but I found a few to be quite insightful.
The website PUAHate is very depressing. It shows just how bleak and cruel the world is due of the evilness of women. I tried to show it to my parents, to give them some sort dose of reality as to why I am so miserable. They never understood why I am so miserable. They have always had the delusion that everything is going well for me, especially my father. When I sent the link of PUAHate.com to my parents, none of them even bothered to look at the posts on there.
After a Spring season spent in absolute despair while other young people lived healthy lives of s**ual pleasure, summer arrived. Summer is even worse than Spring, especially in Santa Barbara. Flocks of hot, young girls go out in their shorts and bikini's, further tantalizing my s**-starved body every time I look at them. Knowing that they gleefully show off their desirable forms, yet they would never give me a chance to be their boyfriend only increased my already boiling hatred towards all women. I could not leave my apartment without seeing at least a few of them. The only place I could go where I could be at peace was the Lake Park in Goleta. I spent a lot of time there, trying to establish a sense peace and serenity whenever my loneliness in Isla Vista became too unbearable. As I looked at all of the beautiful trees around me, and the towering mountains in the background, I wondered how a world so beautiful can be such a dark and cruel place. Indeed, a beautiful environment is the darkest hell if you have to experience it all alone, while other men get to enjoy the company of women.
I had nothing left to live for but revenge. Women must be punished for their crimes of rejecting such a magnificent gentleman as myself. All of those popular boys must be punished for enjoying heavenly lives and having s** with all the girls while I had to suffer in lonely virginity. It was already June, and I had been living in Santa Barbara for two years. Two whole years. I lived in a college town full of young, attractive students who partied and had s** all the time, and I didn't get to experience any of it. No one invited me to any parties, and in all the times I went out by myself to Isla Vista, none of the beautiful blonde girls showed any interest in having s** with me. Not one girl. These are crimes than cannot go unpunished. The more I thought about all these injustices that were dealt to me, the more eager I became for revenge. It's all I had left. I didn't want to die, but I knew that I had to k** myself after I exacted my revenge to avoid getting captured and imprisoned.
For a while, I had been deciding on whether I would exact my Retribution in Isla Vista or at Santa Barbara City College. In both places, I had suffered greatly at the hands of everyone there. I have seen attractive young couples walking around in both places, and those were my targets. I wanted to k** as many attractive young couples as I possibly could.
After a lot of thinking, I came to the conclusion that the Day of Retribution will take place in Isla Vista. On weekend nights, the streets of Isla Vista are always flooded with young couples and good-looking popular kids walking to their parties. What better place is there to exact my Retribution on my enemies? Every time I walked around Isla Vista, trying to meet girls or fit in with popular kids, I've only been treated with disdain, as if I'm an inferior mouse. On the Day of Retribution, the tables will indeed turn, I mused to myself. I will be a god, and they will all be animals that I can slaughter. They are animals... They behave like animals, and I will slaughter them like the animals they are.
It came to a point where I had to set a date for the Day of Retribution. I originally considered doing it on the Halloween of 2013. That is when the entire town erupts in raucous partying. There would literally be thousands of people crowded together who I could k** with ease, and the goal was to k** everyone in Isla Vista, to utterly destroy that wretched town. But then, after seeing footage of previous Halloween events on Youtube, I saw that there were too many cops walking around. It would be too risky. One gunshot from a cop will end everything. The Day of Retribution would have to be on a normal party weekend, so I set it for some time during November of 2013.
This goal would give me five months to plan and prepare. Five more months of life, but then again I wouldn't even call it life. The existence I've had on this world during the last eight years is anything but life. A feeling of overwhelming dizziness and anxiety swept over me. I was actually going to die. I couldn't believe it. Then I realized that my life was already over anyway. I was never going to lose my virginity; I was never going to experience love and s**; I was never going to have children. This final act of Retribution is the only thing I could do. It was very hard to come to terms with this fact. I felt very trapped and lost.
I hated the feeling of being trapped and lost. I wanted a way out, but I saw none. I had already spent two years in Santa Barbara, and I was still a virgin. There was no way I could ever attract a girl without becoming extremely wealthy, and all of my prospects of becoming wealthy at a young age seemed impossible now.
In the beginning of summer, I went on a few walks around Isla Vista during daylight hours. While on these walks, I saw so many attractive young people walking around in their little groups, having the time of their lives. Some of the guys in those groups weren't even good looking, while I am good looking. I couldn't understand how they could be accepted, while I wasn't. I furiously questioned why I haven't been able to have such experiences after living in Isla Vista for two years. It was unfathomable.
I wanted answers. I wanted to know why it had to come to this. If only one pretty girl had shown some form of attraction to me, the Day of Retribution would never happen. I'd never even consider it. The Day of Retribution is mainly my war against women for rejecting me and depriving me of s** and love. If only one girl had given me a chance, tried to get to know me, let me take her out on a date... None of this would have to happen. It was so hard to accept that things would have to resort to me having to perform this act of Retribution I was planning.
While I visited home, my parents, along with my psychiatrist Dr. Charles Sophy, arranged for a counsellor to meet me frequently and help me out with my life. His name was Gavin Linderman, a clean- cut twenty five-year-old. He had a similar role to Tony, my old counsellor from the regional center back when I was nineteen, except Gavin was much younger and acted more like a friend who could take me out to places. Every time I went back to visit my parents, I would meet up with Gavin once. We usually met up at a restaurant somewhere, or went on a hike. I told him about all of my problems with girls, and all of the hardships I've had to face in Santa Barbara. Being familiar with Isla Vista himself, since he spent a great deal of time there when he was younger, he confirmed to me that yes, the girls in Isla Vista prefer tall, muscular, rowdy jock-type men.
Gavin was the only young person I really interacted with at the time, besides the occasional meetings with Philip and Addison. He was a good-looking guy, with a chiseled jaw and bright blonde hair. Whenever we went out to a restaurant, or anywhere that had girls, I got extremely jealous when I saw that girls were checking him out instead of me. This one girl at a restaurant in Santa Monica was staring at him the whole time we were sitting there. No girl had ever done that to me. This only made me more aware that girls did not consider me physically attractive. My hatred of the female gender could grow no stronger. It was too much.
On Father's Day, I went with my family to the Four Season's Resort in Westlake Village. The Four Season's held their annual Father's Day buffet. The place was very beautiful and opulent, and there was delicious food of all kinds to choose from. I always looked forward to events like this. Since I had no access to s**, food was my only vice. As with all buffets that I had attended, I stuffed myself tremendously, trying to sample every single thing they offered. There was pork sausage, bacon, smoked salmon, sushi, filet mignon, roast chicken, roast potatoes... And I took pleasure in eating as much as I could. I filled my plate three times and devoured all of them. As I enjoyed my exquisite meal, I took in the scenery all around me; the perfectly built architecture of the building, the pretty flowers in the gardens, the luxurious furniture and décor, the cascading fountains. It truly made me feel good, a welcome respite from all of my suffering in Santa Barbara. Respites like these make me more aware that there are so many good and beautiful things in this world to enjoy. If my status in life were better, I would think this world to be a magnificent place, and I could truly enjoy life. If I was satisfied with my circumstances in life, I would be able to enjoy this beautiful world to its fullest. I can't be satisfied with life if I'm a virgin and girls are repulsed by me. It's such a tragedy.
I realized that I didn't want to give up on life in this world. I wanted to live a happy life, a life in which I could have a beautiful girlfriend and experience this amazing world with her. I decided that since my plans for the Day of Retribution wouldn't be taking place until November, I could use the time I had during the summer to give life another chance; one last chance before the end, one last ditch effort to attain happiness.
In late June, my mother moved out of the Summit Town Homes and bought a house in West Hills. It was the first time my mother bought a house, as she had only rented in the past. The house had recently undergone a renovation, so it was practically brand new. The house had a swimming pool and was located in a nice enough area, though I would have still preferred it if my mother had gotten married to a wealthy man and moved into a mansion. I still continued to pester her to do this, and she still stubbornly refused. I will always resent my mother for refusing to do this. If not for her sake, she should have done it for mine. Joining a family of great wealth would have truly saved my life. I would have a high enough status to attract beautiful girlfriends and live above all of my enemies. All of my horrific troubles would have been eased instantly. It is very selfish of my mother to not consider this.
With the help of Gavin, my parents arranged for me to have a couple of social sk**s counsellors to work with me in Santa Barbara. They would have a similar role that Gavin did, providing someone to take me out and help me practice socializing. They would be like hired friends. Of course, I did need something like this, and I should have signed up for it when I first moved to Santa Barbara. It was a little too late at this point, I feared, but I went along with it anyway. I was so lonely in Santa Barbara, and in my loneliness I always craved having someone to talk to.
The first counsellor was a very easy going man named Karlin, who was the same age as Gavin. On my first night of meeting Karlin, he took me out to Isla Vista, but nothing came out of it. We just ended up walking around until his time was up. During our walk, I asked him if he had ever had s** with girls in Isla Vista, and he told me he had s** with four girls! I was very jealous. Karlin was half Hawaiian and half Mexican, and he wasn't that good looking. How on earth could he have managed to sleep with four girls in Isla Vista, while I had been there for two years and had none? It seemed absolutely preposterous. I didn't want to see him at all after I found this out.
The second counsellor that was a**igned to help me was a girl named Sasha. She was only a year older than me. Sasha was the first young girl I had interacted with in the entire time I stayed in Santa Barbara, and she was only hired to talk to me. How pathetic is that? At first, I didn't want to have a female counsellor, but when I was introduced to her, I saw that she was quite a pretty looking blonde. I couldn't refuse the opportunity to hang out with a blonde girl, despite the fact that she was a hired friend. It was the only time in my life that I had the experience of spending time with a girl my age, and even though it was all fake, I really enjoyed it. I felt so much better about life after each time we met. But then, I thought about how unfair it was that I could only get a fake little taste of such an experience, while other men get to do such a thing every single day with their girlfriends. Eventually, Sasha had to move out of Santa Barbara, and I decided not to have any more female counsellors. It has the same effect as hiring a prostitute, I imagine. It temporarily feels good for the moment, but afterward it makes one feel like a pathetic loser for having to hire a girl when other men could get the experience for free.
In July, I spent a lot of time exercising in my room in a final effort to appear as attractive as possible to girls. I proposed that after two weeks of rigorous exercising, I will try my hardest to go out in Isla Vista and do everything I can to meet a girl and lose my virginity. It had been a long time since I went out to Isla Vista by myself, but I knew that I had to do it. I had nothing to lose, and my whole life was on the line. Before would set the definite decision to plan the Day of Retribution, I wanted to give women and humanity one more chance to accept me and give me a chance to have a pleasurable youth. I resolved that if I go out to Isla Vista for this final time, and I still end up going back to my room as a lonely virgin, I will have no choice but to plan my Retribution.
I even attended college at SBCC again. I signed up for a summer sociology cla** and attended it for a week, before dropping it out of the familiar frustration of girls talking to other boys instead of me.
This last ditch effort of desperation to once again try to live an enjoyable college life in Isla Vista came to an ultimate and devastating culmination on Saturday night, July 20th, just a few days before my 22nd Birthday.
It was the day that I decided to go out in Isla Vista in an attempt to lose my virginity before I turned 22. That was the only thing that could have saved me. I was giving the female gender one last chance to provide me with the pleasures I deserved from them.
I was too nervous to go out there sober, so I bought a bottle of vodka and took a few shots to garner enough courage to walk out at such an hour. I had taken one too many, for by the time I reached Del Playa Street, my head was clouded with drunkenness. At the start, it benefited me greatly. I saw lots of good looking popular kids socializing in groups all over the place, and if I wasn't drunk it would have intimidated me too much. I was so drunk that I walked right into a wild house party that was taking place on Del Playa. They had a DJ playing annoying hip hop music that all the young people liked these days, and there was a ping pong table set up where lots of popular kids were playing “beer pong”, a crude drinking game.
There were about one hundred people at that party, and everyone was socializing with a group of friends except for me. I walked around in my drunken confidence for a few moments, helped myself to the beer they had, and tried to act like a normal party-goer. I soon became frustrated that no one was paying any attention to me, particularly the girls. I saw girls talking to other guys who looked like obnoxious slobs, but none of them showed any interest in me. As my frustration grew, so did my anger. I came across this Asian guy who was talking to a white girl. The sight of that filled me with rage. I always felt as if white girls thought less of me because I was half-Asian, but then I see this white girl at the party talking to a full-blooded Asian. I never had that kind of attention from a white girl! And white girls are the only girls I'm attracted to, especially the blondes. How could an ugly Asian attract the attention of a white girl, while a beautiful Eurasian like myself never had any attention from them? I thought with rage. I glared at them for a bit, and then decided I had been insulted enough. I angrily walked toward them and bumped the Asian guy aside, trying to act co*ky and arrogant to both the boy and the girl. My drunken state got the better of me, and I almost fell over to the floor after a few minutes of this. They said something along the lines that I was very drunk and that I needed to get some water, so I angrily left them and went out to the front yard, where the main partying happened. Rage fumed inside me as I realized that I just walked away from that confrontation, so I rushed back into the house and spitefully insulted the Asian before walking outside again.
I stood awkwardly in the front yard for a bit, realizing how pathetic I looked all by myself when everyone was partying around me. To calm down, I climbed up onto a wooden ledge that bordered the street and plunged down on one of the chairs there. Isla Vista was at its wildest state at that time, and I saw lots of guys walking around with hot blonde girls on their arm. It fueled me with rage, as it always had. I should be one of those guys, but no blonde girls gave me that chance. I looked down at all of them, and in my drunken carelessness, extended my arm out and pretended to shoot them all, laughing giddily as I did it. Eventually, some partiers climbed up onto the ledge. They were all obnoxious, rowdy boys whom I've always despised. A couple of pretty girls came up and talked to them, but not to me. They all started socializing right next to me, and none of the girls paid any attention to me. I rose from my chair and tried to act arrogant and co*ky toward them, throwing insults at everyone. They only laughed at me and started insulting me back. That was the last straw, I had taken enough insults that night. A dark, hate-fueled rage overcame my entire being, and I tried to push as many of them as I could from the 10-foot ledge. My main target was the girls. I wanted to punish them for talking to the obnoxious boys instead of me. It was one of the most foolish and rash things I ever did, and I almost risked everything in doing it, but I was so drunk with rage that I didn't care. I failed to push any of them from the ledge, and the boys started to push me, which resulted in me being the one to fall onto the street. When I landed, I felt a snap in my ankle, followed by a stinging pain. I slowly got up and found that I couldn't even walk. I had to stumble, and stumble I did. I tried to get away from there as fast as I could.
As I stumbled a few yards down Del Playa with my shattered leg, I realized that someone had stolen my Gucci sungla**es that my mother had given me. I loved those sungla**es, and had to get them back. I vehemently turned around and staggered back towards the party. At that point, I was so drunk that I forgot where the party was, and ended up walking onto the front yard of the house next to it, demanding to know who took my sungla**es. The people in this house must have been friends with the ones I previously fought with, for they greeted me with vicious hostility. They called me names like “f*ggot” and “p**y”, typical things those types of scumbags would say. A whole group of the obnoxious brutes came up and dragged me onto their driveway, pushing and hitting me. I wanted to fight and k** them all. I managed to throw one punch toward the main attacker, but that only caused them to beat me even more. I fell to the ground where they started kicking me and punching me in the face. Eventually, some other people from the street broke up the fight. I managed to have the strength to stand up and stagger away.
It was the first time in my life that I had been truly beaten up physically to the point where my face was bruised up. I had suffered a lot of bullying in my life, but most of it wasn't physical. I had never been beaten and humiliated that badly. Everyone in Isla Vista saw what happened, and it was truly horrific.
The worst part of this whole ordeal was not getting beaten up, oh no. It was the fact that no one showed any concern. There was only one group who helped me to the end of Del Playa, but after that they abandoned me. Not one girl offered to help me as I stumbled home with a broken leg, beaten and bloody. If girls had been attracted to me, they would have offered to walk me to my room and take care of me. They would have even offered to sleep with me to make me feel better. But no, not one girl showed an ounce of concern for me. They didn't care. No one cared about me. I was all alone.
As I got to my room, I was so traumatized that I called the only people in the world I knew, my parents and my sister. Yes, I even called my sister, someone I never got along with. I sulked for a long time, and then I reached up to my neck to feel my special golden necklace, and I felt nothing there. In the midst of the fight, one of those horrible punks had snatched off my special golden necklace that my grandma Ah Mah had given me! That necklace was one of the most special items I had, and now one of those evil, wretched thugs will be selling it to buy d**. I broke down in anguish and wailed in agony, crying and crying until I pa**ed out in my bed, all alone.
When I woke up the next morning, my leg was in absolute agony. It was purple and swollen, and I could not even stumble anymore. I had to crawl. Being fully sober, all of my anxiety came back. It became very clear to me what had happened. I felt enraged by everything, but also fearful that I might get in trouble. I did try to push girls off of a ledge and threatened to k** all of those people, which could
implicate me. I had to concoct a fairly altered story to explain to the police, who would inevitably have to interview me once I got to the hospital and reported my injury.
My father drove up to Santa Barbara to bring me to the hospital. Two police did interview me, and I told them that those boys deliberately pushed me off of the ledge after I acted “co*ky” towards them. I didn't mention the girls at all. I expressed to the police of my wishes that they should all be punished for this. The police then went to interview them, and they had their own version of the story. Since there was no actual evidence, the whole case was shortly dismissed.
The physician at the hospital put me in a temporary cast and gave me crutches. On top of all other things in the world that made me feel inferior, I was now a cripple. I felt so defeated and broken. To my horror, the physician said that I would have to be in crutches for the next six weeks, and I might have to get surgery.
The leg that broke was my left leg, so I was still able to drive. Shortly after the incident, I drove home to spend the rest of the summer recovering. It was a depressing drive. I had never felt so defeated and wronged in my life. I had actually gone out to a party in Isla Vista, hoping that I would be walking back to my room in triumph with a beautiful girl on my arm, but instead I stumbled back to my room with a shattered leg and shattered hopes.
My 22nd Birthday was a miserable experience. I sat around at my mother's house, staring at my broken leg, feeling so pathetic for being a cripple, as well as a 22-year-old virgin. My mother bought me a new golden necklace to replace the one that was stolen from me, as she knew how heartbroken I was about losing it.