By Guoshwan Nian
Hey there, reader! Hope you have a good day. You deserve it ;).
Whomever finds this note must be really shocked. Maybe you even fainted! Don’t be like that, come on. What comes around, goes around. But you may not think so, because you’re an outsider to the whole business. Whatever. I wrote this for a reason, after all. Lemme explain it to you.
So how did this come to be? I honestly don’t know where to begin. It’s really hard to write this, you know? A lot harder to write than you may think. You try writing one of these! How are you supposed to compile everything into one single note? It’s hard, damn it!
I’ll do a self-introduction first, at least. My name is… not important, honestly. I was born on Children’s day, oddly enough. I’m not really a fan of sports. Or animals. Or studies. I suppose I’m pretty boring on those fronts. Or at least that’s what others told me. Anyway:
I guess it started when I was born. From the eyes of any policeman who reads this, I guess had really supportive parents, and financially stable ones too. As literally everyone else said, I have a very lucky childhood. It’s been beaten to death in my head: I wasn’t starving on the streets, I wasn’t parentless, and I wasn’t a spoiled brat, and all that other crap about other possibilities.
Honestly, at first, childhood was… okay. I was in your run-of-the-mill family, doing your run-of-the-mill things. We travel, we play, we eat food, we shit, we sleep, we talk, yada yada. But, as my parents said so many times it became quite annoying, I wasn’t really interested in anything.
Nothing really appealed to me as a child. Playing in sandboxes is messy and pointless. Basketball is pretty stupid – I mean, who can be interested in shooting a sphere into a hoop after a couple throws? Playing with toys is even dumber. Why are you moving around a bunch of feelingless plastic figurines? And because of that, I didn’t have friends, because according to everyone, I was weird. Welp, sorry that I’m not as stupid as you guys are :(.
“Oh, you just haven’t found what you like yet,” said my mother. “You’ll find it soon.”
“And when you do, dear,” said my dad, smiling like one of those hollow plastic figurines, “We’ll support you to the end.”
Moving on to the classes: they’re all bull. English is memorization, which is so boring. Math is a bunch of nonexistent numbers moving back and forth. Eh. History is just a bunch of idiots running pointlessly in circles (Light at the end of another tunnel!). Science drains whatever pitiful magic there is from life. It’s almost like all of these classes are designed for mass production of robotic children, drained of all creativity and thought!
So yeah, primary school was shit.
There were only two highs of my primary school life. The first was this teacher, Ms. Merrygold, who I used to think was pretty cool. She would have these motivational quotes all along the walls, such as “Nothing is impossible. The world itself says ‘I’m possible!’” or “Shoot for the moon. Even if you miss, you’ll still end up on the stars!” or just “Never give up!”. And she would always talk about our dreams. Some kids wanted to be firefighters. Some kids wanted to be astronauts. Even though all those dreams were stupid, she would complement them as though they’re actually achievable. And even with me, a dreamless kid, she would say “the moment would come for you, kid. Just wait for it!” It was pretty amazing how she could always be so positive.
Oh, about her. I don’t know what she’s doing now, but if you can find her now, can you tell her that she’s a flabby, empty-headed bitch? Thanks!
The second high happened on a random day in school. See, there was this fifth grader who thinks he’s some hot stuff (he’s not, he’s cringe as fuck). One day, for some reason, he started beating up one of my classmates in the hallway.
Now, I couldn’t care less about my classmate, but seeing that cringe bully start hitting people pissed me off, and… no, that’s not the real reason. It’s something about the way that classmate (I forgot his name :P) suffered those blows was… interesting. I’ve seen people get hit, stabbed, and killed in movies of course, but to see a little bit of the real thing was something else.
I mean, who could not be fascinated? To see people inflict pain on each other over the pettiest of things, to see that face contort in the most beautiful expression of agony. To hear those lungs scream. To think about the marks on his body, scars meant to last forevermore. It’s really something else.
Me, being the fourth-grade me, wanted to know what it’s like. How does the attacker feel? How does the wounded feel? And, most importantly, what kind of impact would it have? Can I finally change something in this stale, stifled school? So, I ran over to the cringe fifth-grade bully and kicked him right in the ribs.
He contorted in pain, and let me tell you, his expression was the most fascinating expression I’ve ever seen. That was my Mona Lisa, my masterpiece. So I kept at it, scratching his face off. He tried to fight back, throwing a punch or two. I didn’t even feel them. I kneed him straight in the balls, then grabbed his arm and twisted it. How far could it go? I pulled harder and – SNAP! That crisp sound of agony sent electric ecstasy shivering up my spine.
Eventually teachers showed up, cutting the moment short. I was grounded for a month for that, and my parents yelled and screamed at me for what a bad child I’ve been. I was even told that the cringe fifth-grader was sent to the hospital. I cried then, because I felt that I should. But, locked alone in my own room, I didn’t feel that sad. I don’t know – supposedly, kids should feel guilty, right? I understood that. But no matter what, I can’t make myself feel the slightest inkling of remorse.
I think, looking back, that that’s the first indication I got that, maybe, I’m not who society would like me to be.
Let’s skip a bit, because, officers, I’m sure you’re getting bored :). The cringe kid went silent, classmates avoided me even more, and teachers were suddenly light in their scolding of me. But whatever. Primary school flushed by like sewage. Same for middle school. I can’t even remember a single name of my goddamn cardboard classmates.
I started, though, to develop a taste for… certain movies.
I just realized that sounds like porn. Lmao. Nah, I’m not interested in that stuff. It’s boring as fuck. No, I got interested in movies with violence and gore. While they weren’t nearly as exhilarating as the real thing, they were still amazing. I had to watch them secretly, of course, but it was worth it for all the gore they’d show, and every movie showed me some new, fascinating way to harm and kill. It became a sort of a fixation of mine, one that I knew was different from all the other boring kids. The Boys became my favorite TV show, and Cannibal Holocaust became my favorite movie. To me, watching violence wasn’t disturbing. It was rewarding. It was as entrancing as, I’d imagine, playing with Barbie is for some kids and playing Call of Duty is for others. And of course, I explained away this fixation by reassuring myself that I won’t actually do anything like what’s on screen. But, to be honest, that was really just society-enforced version of me talking. And I never really believed that version of me.
And besides, it should be okay, right? My old self thought. I mean, we could dream to be whatever we want. Pursuit of happiness. This should be a right. I mean, it’s not like I’ll get in trouble for a liking a little violence, right? My parents just don’t understand. And I pulled through with that kind of bullshit thinking.
So I lived through primary and middle school with passable grades but no real memory except all of the horror movies I watched. Oh, and no fights, if you’re wondering. After that day, nobody dared to come close to me, which was disappointing, but expected. At least people didn’t fight each other for crappy reasons as much when I’m around.
But things were …different in high school. Exciting. Exhilarating. And has, as you noticed, a tragic outcome. All in all, different. I noticed it when my parents pulled me along before it all started and said, “look, dear, you still haven’t found a passion yet. You need to find something you want to do, okay dear? We’ve been trying to find one for so long.”
“And you’ll need to be more focused on your grades,” piped in my dad – or was it my mom? “You’re gonna prepare for college soon. You need to be more focused than ever before, okay?”
“Oh.” To me, college is a load of bullshit. People act like it’s the final destination, but it’s just four more pointless years of school. And school, as we all know, is a dumpster truck. I honestly forgot college existed until they brought it up. “Okay.” I thought others would see it for the crap it was, so I won’t focus on it much.
Oh, how wrong I was. If I got even a slightly bad score on some dumb ass subject, my parents would think it’s oh so detrimental. “How are you going to get to college with these scores?!” They’d scream. They’d ground. They’d punish. I still don’t really understand, why are they so worked up? Are they really that stupid?
School also became even more ass than it already was. Tests became more braindead. Students became shittier. Every day, I see motherfuckers yell at each other, cyberbully, engage in their embarrassing love stories, smoke pot, or act so shallow it makes me sick. Most of them are just running in pointless, well-worn circles, inevitably forgotten for the meaningless spots on human history they are, anyway. Why should I care?
In response, I begun cherishing the time on my own, watching my brutal movie collections. I loved how, in movies, people would punish in gruesome ways the same bastards I spend my life with. How’d nice, I’d think, to do all this to all the motherfuckers I see every day. Maybe it’ll beat some sense of them.
And the more time I’d spend on those movies, the less time I’d spend on my studies. And as my grades suffered, my parents would yell at me. And the more my parents bitched, the longer I’d spend on those violent movies. And the more… well, you get it.
By the first semester of ninth grade, I was a ball of barely bottled rage. Every day, my only time of happiness would be watching those movies, whether at lunchtime or in the bathroom or at bed on sleepless nights (which was most nights). No, it’s not those brainless addiction like all those stupid old-gen fuckers think videogames and movies are. It’s as true happiness as I’ve ever known, right down to the marrow of my bones. And yet, when I do what I like, I’m punished by society and my parents. “Pursuit of happiness” my ass, I begin to think.
OK, I’d admit that “watching violence” might sound disturbing to you (if you’re a crybaby), but moreover, it’s not really a substantial goal. I’m not stupid. All that movie-watching though, bottled all the more anger in me. Anger at society, at my peers, at my parents. And soon enough, I could unleash it.
That day arrived when I was walking in the hallways at school when a wad of spit flew onto my hair. I looked back. There were a bunch of “bullies”, with stupid grins on their face. I ignored them, even as more pelted my hair. They’re jocks, basically, and they go around bullying one student after another. Stupid people are quite annoying.
But as I sat down for lunch, they tossed my tray over the table. One of them, a really fat boy whose eyes barely peeped out of his mountains of flabby flesh, grinned all the stupider.
“Do you mind?” I asked. I had better things to do than entertain their idiocy. So I ignored them again and got out my phone. I wanted to watch the newest episode of The Boys.
But the moment I opened the app, another jock snatched my phone out of my hands. He’s a star player of the basketball team. Curly blond hair, attractive. How classic.
“Hey, give that back,” I demanded.
He stuck his tongue out at me. Then he threw the phone onto the ground.
Click-clack-crash! I heard my phone break over the floor. The rest of the room went silent, watching. Something began pounding in my ears as I saw my, well, sole reason of existence fall in pieces.
“Watchu gonna do?” asked that jock. He and his stupid fucking jocks all grinned at me like the stupid idiotic shitty motherless fatherfuckers they all are. Looking at those faces, I realized just what a shithole society is. I mean, I always knew, really, but only after seeing those faces, those fragments of my phone on the floor, did I finally realize just how hopeless humanity truly is. And I finally realized what all that bottled rage was for.
I finally realized what I wanted to do.
(Ahh, this is gonna be fun to describe. Buckle up, officers!)
Luckily, I had a pen in my pocket. I swung it out and stabbed straight into that boy’s eye. ZOOM! SPLAT! I buried that pen deep into his eye socket with all my force. I heard a cry of pain: Success!
As the other jocks reached for me, my limbs went on bloody autopilot. One kick into the fat boy’s flabby genitals (it’s not like he’ll ever get a bitch, anyway). One elbow into a third jock. Blows landed on me. I didn’t feel them, not even when one landed squarely on the jaw.
I ducked. When they spilled my tray, I had a knife and fork. I picked them up. I stuck the knife deep into one of the jock’s throat, stabbing as hard as I could. I swung out my knife and let that beautiful metal butterfly dance as it skimmed the surface of a jock’s neck. Hands reached for me, restricting me, but it was all futile! I swung my head back and smashed straight into one of the bully’s thick skull. CRACK! I really didn’t care if his skull broke or mine.
When one of the grips slackened, I twisted. My feet kicked at whatever target I saw. My elbow smashed into one of the jock’s jaw. I let my knife dance, taste more sweet flesh, as my fork stabbed into whoever’s eye or lip or face or testicle I could locate. I felt like the protagonist of an action movie, destroying one movie after another. Every jock was my new masterpiece. Every hit sent exhilarating electric shivers down my spine.
By the end, I was dragging a jock’s hair and smashing his face on the table, again and again, until I heard something break. I took out my knife and fork and leapt on another jock, attempting to punch me, and stabbed into his eyes. I think it was the fat kid? Well, small eyes they might be, but they still bled pleasurably with metal thrusted in.
The final jock came tumbling down on a floor of blood. The floor was spinning. So was the ceiling. Blood clouded my vision. Those bullies did quite a number on me. But, standing amongst those bodies, I felt so fucking amazing. It was better than any movie, any orgasm. It was even better than that time I beat up a fifth grader. It was a moment of pure bliss, pure happiness.
I’m sure you know what I’m talking about, right? That moment of pure, unbridled joy? Well, that was me, as I laughed my lungs out in happiness. I cried, maybe for the first time ever, at the pure amazing lovely satisfaction.
Happiness? I found it.
Then the teachers came. I looked at them. They seemed to be saying something. I don’t remember what. Whatever, I needed to tell my parents. All of Ms. Merrygold’s posters and encouragement came back to me. I found it, my passion! What they wanted all this time!
I could barely contain my exhilaration when I sped past my teachers. One of them tried getting in my way, so I dug my fingers in her face and pushed her away. I sped down away to the school gates, where I saw the guards. They’re stupid animals, really. They don’t care about common sense. So I ran straight into them and, as I leapt, pulled one of their heads straight into my leaping knee. His head crashed onto my kneecap oh so satisfyingly! I felt even happier. All those idiots are getting their comeuppance!
The other guards came over. One even got out a gun. Perfect! I ran to the one with a gun (oh, I didn’t have to worry about him shooting, he doesn’t have the balls) and swung right into his temple. Ah, that expression of pain! As he fell, I took the gun and shot two other guards in their knee ligament. As they bent down in pain, screaming, I felt even better! Those screams gave me eargasms, honestly. Sorry if those guys were your friends/coworkers :P.
I sped out of the that shitty school and flipped it off as I ran. Oh, I forgot to mention, my place was pretty close by, so I could easily run to their place in ten minutes tops. But I guess telephone travels faster, for when I got there, they were already waiting for me.
I…
“WHAT HAVE YOU DONE!” screamed my mother, tears streaming down her face.
“NOW YOU’VE DONE IT!” roared my father, stroking my mother. “HOW DARE YOU SHOW YOUR FACE!”
“No, no,” I said, chuckling. “They told you? Anyway, it’s fine –”
“What part of this is FINE!” snarled my father. “DON’T YOU KNOW WHAT YOU’VE DONE?”
“Oh yeah!” I said. “I know, it seems bad, but I think I finally got it! What I want to do! It’s this!”
My parents stared at me with naked rage and sadness. Whatever, I thought, they’d understand. “That thing you want to do in life!” I said ecstatically. “I know what it is! I don’t want to be a doctor. I don’t want to be a firefighter. I want to beat all the senseless bastards on this bloody planet into a bloodier pulp. I want to smash up the faces of those bastards undeserving of life!” I chuckled, in relief. In happiness. “I know it’s not exactly conventional, but I really like it, Mom. Dad. I think it’s why I’m born.” I pumped my fist. “It’s as noble of a task as anyone’d want! And I – ”
“What are you saying, son?!” said my mother. She burst into sobs.
“Are you out of your mind?!” roared my father. “Are you OUT OF YOUR MIND?! You can’t kill people and hurt people for a reason!! Don’t you have any common sense?”
What a stupid question! And, now that I look back on it, quite hypocritical, too. “Of course! This is what I want to do, Mom! Dad! Isn’t that what you all said, that you can do whatever you want, as long as you believe in it and work for it?”
My mother burst into even more tears. Or was it my father? Their faces begun blur, becoming less human and more demonic. Twisted.
“How dare you! We taught you better than this!”
“You can’t! You can’t kill people! Hurt people!”
“That’s… just not right!”
They faces spiraled into meaningless smoke. Laughing in derision. “You can’t do that!” “We always wanted you to be a doctor, or a lawyer! Someone admirable!” “You should just go to college and find a good job!” “WHY DID WE HAVE YOU!” “ANY KID BUT YOU!” “YOU!” “YOU YOU YOU YOU –”
Yeah, yeah, that’s quite enough. I don’t remember all of what they say, but that’s basically it. You see now, don’t you? How full of crap they are? They were hypocrites who would say all these blasted sayings, such as “pursue your dreams” or “live to be happy”, but they don’t actually follow it. They’re cowards in their snail shells. And they’re about as stupid as snails, too, trailing whatever path they’re told to trail and never questioning it, oozing into boring meaningless fucking nonexistence. But I guess most humans were like that.
In the end, my parents were also filth, so I eliminated them. I got out the knife from school and rushed towards them. I carved open their stomachs. I widened their smiles. I gouged out their eyes. I slit their throats. Until their entrails formed the ropes to my grand opening, and their blood my grand red curtains spilling across the floor.
Seeing them, their heads freed from their bodies, their bones sticking out, their guts hanging around, their legs all twisted…
Was so satisfying! It was even better than killing the bullies. When I finally stared at my ultimate masterpiece, staining the floor, I realized. Life under their roof was stifled shit. And now that they’re gone, I never felt more at peace.
And moreover, I now know the truth. Society would always tell you to “pursue your dreams” but only the dreams they allow. There’s no room for people like me, and usually, people like me would live unhappy for the rest of their lives, forced to stay in line. But who the fuck wants to live life unhappy forever? I know what I want to do now, and I will carve my place in the world by killing all the useless filth in society.
So, officers, I’m heading back to the school, to live my dream to the fullest. I don’t know how it’ll go, but I hope it goes well! When you find this note, I hope you understand the mess on the floor and why I did what I did. Oh, and now that you’ve finished, you should chase your real dreams, too! I hope you can make it in this shitty society. Honestly. Your dreams matter more than society ever would, no matter what it is, because it’s what makes you happy. So go for it ;).
Best of luck.