You just don’t give up, do you? Jus so you know; I think you are an irritating, annoying you-know-what. You nag and nag that I should tell you about myself. You don’t even know why I don’t want to tell you!

Everybody always saw me as a quiet, well-behaved person. My friends saw me as someone who is always happy. They all just accepted everything at face value. They were so concerned about keeping themselves happy that they never saw when others were in need. I always had to be there for them, no matter what. No one cared about me. No one!

I lived a life of loneliness. My friends only knew me when they needed me. One day, while I was busy cutting meat, my so-called best friend phoned. When I answered, she insisted that I come to her house immediately to help her die her hair. I told her that I was busy, to which she replied “You’re my best friends aren’t you?”

Red-hot anger rose in me. Suddenly I had images of plunging the butchers knife I was holding into her stomach. Images where I cut out her heart, throwing it in her face. The sound of her voice ****ed me back to reality; guilt flushed through me. That was the beginning of the end.

The hate that festered in me for so long now came out at night. I fantasized about what I could do to all these people to whom I was an accessory. Along with this there was also a growing sense of emptiness.

As time progressed the hatred in me strengthened. The fantasies became more and more brutal. In one, I tied up my best friend; took a knife and started skinning her. There was also one where I tied her up, spilled some petrol on her and ignited it.

That day everything just went wrong. Everybody was angry with me, even though I didn’t do anything wrong. We were sitting in the English class, admiring my best friend’s butchers knife. The teacher suddenly started shouting at me. I still don’t know why.

At once my fantasies were back. In my mind I saw how I am mutilating the teacher with the knife. Stabbing her in the stomach, cutting her throat, spilling her blood.

I suddenly awoke from the fantasy. My hands were covered in blood. They told me that I murdered the teacher. Everyone abandoned me. Even the fantasies.

You see, I didn’t want to tell you about the real me, because my soul dies that day. My fantasies finally came true, but the price I had to pay was high. The real me is now simply a void.

You know, it’s my birthday today. No one remembered. I am dead to everyone. I even wrote a poem about myself.

This morning I woke up
The sun shining, the birds singing.
As I lay there, a thousand thoughts
Flashed through my mind
Seventeen years I lived on this earth,
The eighteenth starting today.
In years to come, I could become a doctor.
I could be a second Newton or Einstein,
Maybe even a second Beethoven or Mozart.
The whole day at home I was.
In the future I could be so much,
But now I am dead.
This morning I woke up,
The sun shining, the birds singing.

Gee..........all I ever fantasis about is 2 chicks at the same time.

ghmf-typical guy

wow sw, its quite different to your usual stuff, nicely done.

Hence the name, sycho_warrior. Now I finally understand. You're not some 17 year old young woman about to graduate high school and take a sabbatical year before going on to Uni, you are, in fact, some deranged serial killer (probably male) pent up in a maximum security facility but with access to the internet (most likely in violation of the terms of your inprisonment but you've obviously bribed a guard).

Shhs Indy I dont want the whole world to know

sw, be glad you don't live in the US. A young girl wrote something like this in a local school and got kicked out for it. Her and her family had to relocate to a new area because of all the uproar.

Why?
I'm to much of an angel to my teachers to get kicked out for sth like this, but it might scare my english teacher or shock her at least

Was there any particular theme that the essay had to be on? Or did you just think of this randomly? I'm hoping it was the former

The name was "The real me, as confided to a psychiatryst" I just took it from there
This was one of three options btw

Like I said. "Her" choice alone tells all one needs to know.

... can you tell us the name of the insane aslymn you're located in ?

sw, in the US, there unfortunatly is a great problem with disipline in the class room. The teachers, from time to time get threats against them. I don't know if you know the Columbine story from the states, or others that are similar. It involves a student wanting to kill a teacher. That's why they would take some thing written as serious and not "Just a story". It can be harmless, but the teachers don't know that. They, rightly, see it as a threat. Some of the violent students "seemed" nice until the snapped.

All this said, I am NOT implying any thing, just an explaination on this types of stories and thier effects here. In truth, your stories are quite good.

Edited by - Finalday on 8/13/2004 4:06:55 PM

i like your style sw, really nice.