I don't know who I am anymore. It's like I'm living in someone else's skin, wearing their face like a grotesque mask. The whispers behind my back, the fearful glances from my classmates – they all serve as a cruel reminder of the monster I've become. They call me "The Canadian Eric Harris" now, a name that fills me with a sickening mix of pride and revulsion. Pride because it means I've struck fear into the hearts of those around me, revulsion because it means I've become something I never wanted to be. I've lashed out at classmates, threatened teachers, all in a desperate bid to silence the voices in my head that scream for blood. The urge to kill, to maim, to destroy is overwhelming, like a fire raging out of control, consuming everything in its path and the worst part is - that it's like I can't control myself anymore. And the worst part is, part of me doesn't even want to. I've entertained dark fantasies, whispered promises of revenge and retribution that echo in the darkest corners of my mind. I fantasize about getting a sawed-off shotgun and wreaking havoc on those who have wronged me, seeing blood-soaked corridors – it's all a twisted game to me now, a sick fantasy born from the depths of my own despair. I want to hurt them. I want to make them suffer for every slight, every insult, every moment of pain they've inflicted upon me. And the thought of it fills me with a sick, twisted pleasure, like a junkie craving their next fix. But deep down, beneath the layers of anger and hatred, I know that's not who I am. I'm not a monster. I'm just a scared, broken kid who's lost his way in a world that doesn't understand him. But the darkness is always there, lurking just beneath the surface, waiting to consume me whole. And I don't know how much longer I can fight it.. But you know what, once I finally snap and do it, it's gonna be like...Quake!
Today was like any other day, yet it felt heavier, darker somehow. The weight of the world pressing down on my shoulders, suffocating me with its relentless grip. I can't shake this overwhelming sense of despair, this consuming rage that burns within me like a wildfire. Everywhere I look, I see faces twisted in scorn, voices dripping with contempt. The world feels like a battleground, and I'm trapped in the crossfire, a casualty of a war I never signed up for. It's suffocating, this constant barrage of hatred and hostility. I can feel the darkness creeping in, swallowing me whole. The urge to lash out, to strike back with the same ferocity that's been directed at me, is almost unbearable. But I know deep down that giving in to the rage will only lead to more pain, more suffering. Yet, in the depths of my despair, there's a voice whispering to me, urging me to end it all. To escape this endless cycle of torment and misery. It's tempting, oh so tempting, to give in to the darkness and let it consume me whole. But I can't. I won't. Not yet, at least. There's still a flicker of hope, however faint, burning within me. A glimmer of light amidst the darkness, reminding me that there's still something worth fighting for. I just have to hold on, to keep pushing forward, no matter how bleak the road ahead may seem. But the voices keep calling to me, beckoning me to open the bottle of pills and unload it all into my bloodstream.
The darkness grows stronger with each passing day, swallowing me whole in its suffocating embrace. I can feel the rage boiling beneath the surface, threatening to erupt at any moment. Every slight, every insult, cuts me deeper than before, leaving behind wounds that may never fully heal. I'm drowning in a sea of anger and despair, struggling to find solid ground amidst the storm. Thoughts of violence and revenge plague my mind, consuming me with their toxic allure. The urge to lash out, to make those who wronged me pay for their sins, is almost overwhelming. But I know that giving in to the darkness will only lead to more pain, more suffering. It's a vicious cycle, a never-ending spiral into the abyss. And yet, I feel powerless to break free from its grasp. I long for the sweet release of oblivion, the freedom that comes with surrendering to the void. But deep down somewhere, I know that's not the answer. There's still a glimmer of hope, however faint, burning within me. And for now, that's enough to keep me going....Until I snap.
I can't take it anymore. The darkness is consuming me, swallowing me whole in its suffocating embrace. Everywhere I look, I see nothing but pain and suffering, hatred and betrayal. The world is a cesspool of misery, and I'm drowning in its filth. The rage burns within me like a wildfire, consuming everything in its path. I can feel it twisting and writhing inside me, threatening to burst free at any moment. The urge to lash out, to make them all pay for what they've done to me, is overwhelming. I can't escape the thoughts that plague my mind, the violent fantasies that consume me day and night. I see their faces, twisted in fear and agony, begging for mercy that will never come. And I revel in their suffering, relishing in the power I hold over them. But deep down, I know that this darkness isn't who I am. It's a sickness, a cancer that's eating away at my soul. And yet, I can't seem to shake it, can't seem to break free from its grip. I don't know how much longer I can hold on. The darkness grows stronger with each passing day, threatening to swallow me whole. But for some fucking reason, I refuse to let it win. I refuse to let the darkness consume me... Maybe I'm too afraid of what my parents might say to me but for now on, I will fight, tooth and nail, until my last breath.
I can't control it anymore. The rage consumes me, twisting and writhing inside me like a serpent coiled around my heart. I see red, everything tinted with the crimson hue of my fury. The voices whisper to me, urging me to give in to the darkness, to let it consume me whole. And I'm tempted, oh so tempted, to surrender to its seductive embrace. But I know that's not the answer. I know that giving in to the darkness will only lead to more pain, more suffering. But the thoughts won't stop. They haunt me day and night, relentless in their pursuit of my sanity. I see their faces, twisted in fear and agony, and I long to make them pay for what they've done to me. I don't know how much longer I can hold on. I feel like I'm losing control of myself, and sooner or later, I WILL BECOME THE SO-CALLED CANADIAN ERIC HARRIS!
The bloodfueled rage consumes me, devouring me from within like a ravenous beast. I can feel its tendrils wrapping around my heart, squeezing the life out of me with each passing moment. The pain is unbearable, a constant, throbbing ache that refuses to abate. Thoughts of violence and revenge plague my mind, twisting my thoughts into grotesque shapes. I fantasize about lashing out, about making those who wronged me pay for their sins in blood. The urge to inflict pain, to cause suffering, is almost overwhelming. But I know that giving in to the darkness would only lead to more pain, more suffering. It's a vicious cycle, a never-ending spiral into the abyss. And yet, I feel powerless to break free from its grasp. I'm teetering on the edge of sanity, a single step away from plunging into the abyss. The line between reality and fantasy blurs, and I find myself losing touch with the world around me. I fear what I might become if I succumb to the darkness completely. But in the depths of my despair, there's not another way out of this.
Today was a nightmare. I woke up with the weight of the world crushing down on me, suffocating me with its relentless grip. Every breath feels like a struggle, every heartbeat a painful reminder of my own existence. I dragged myself to school, my mind consumed by a swirling maelstrom of rage and despair. I could feel the darkness closing in around me, threatening to engulf me in its cold embrace. But I pressed on, clinging to the faint hope that maybe, just maybe, today would be different. But it wasn't. As I sat in class, the teacher's voice grated on my nerves like sandpaper, each word a sharp jab to my already frayed sanity. I could feel the rage building inside me, a seething torrent of fury that threatened to consume me whole. And then it happened. Without warning, without reason, I snapped. I shouted at the teacher, my voice ringing out like a thunderclap in the silent classroom. I saw the shock and fear in their eyes, felt the weight of their judgment bearing down on me like a crushing weight. But worst of all, I felt something inside me stir. A primal, animalistic rage that lurked just beneath the surface, waiting to be unleashed. I felt my eyes flash a bright, glowing green, and my voice took on a deep, guttural tone that was not my own. In that moment, I knew what I had become. A monster. A creature of darkness and despair, driven mad by the pain and suffering of the world around me. And so I ran, fleeing from the horrified stares of my classmates, the accusing gaze of the teacher. I ran until my legs gave out beneath me, collapsing in a heap on the cold, hard ground. And there, in the darkness of my own despair, I wept. Wept for the loss of innocence, for the destruction of everything I held dear. But most of all, I wept for myself. For the monster that I had become.
The events of yesterday still haunt me, like a specter lurking in the shadows of my mind. I can't shake the feeling that I've crossed a line, that there's no going back from the darkness that now consumes me. I try to push the memories away, to bury them deep beneath the surface where they can't hurt me. But they linger, festering like an open wound, poisoning my thoughts with their toxic tendrils. I can't help but wonder what would have happened if I had lost control completely. If I had given in to the rage and let the monster inside me run rampant. Would anyone have been safe from my wrath? I shudder at the thought, recoiling from the darkness that lurks within me. But no matter how hard I try to fight it, I can't escape the truth. I am a monster, a creature of darkness and despair, trapped in a world that fears and loathes me. And so I retreat into myself, building walls of anger and bitterness to shield me from the pain of the outside world. But even in my solitude, I can't escape the truth. The darkness is always there, lurking just beneath the surface, waiting to consume me whole.
Today was... unbearable. I can't even bring myself to think about it without feeling sick to my stomach. I let my rage consume me, and I said things to Mom that I'll never be able to take back. She was just trying to help, as she always does. But I couldn't see past my own pain, my own anger. And I lashed out at her like a wounded animal backed into a corner. The look in her eyes... it haunts me. It was a mix of hurt, confusion, and fear – a look that I never wanted to see directed at me, especially not from Mom. She's always been my rock, my anchor in this stormy sea of madness. And I... I shattered that trust, that bond, with my own two hands. I don't know how to face her now. How can I look her in the eye after what I've done? How can I ask for her forgiveness when I can barely forgive myself? I ran to my room after our argument, tears streaming down my face like a river of shame and regret. I don't deserve her love, her kindness. I don't deserve anything. But even in the midst of my darkest hour, a part of me clings to the hope that maybe, just maybe, I can find redemption. That I can make amends for the pain I've caused, for the wounds I've inflicted upon those who love me. But for now, all I can do is wallow in my own misery, drowning in a sea of self-loathing and despair. And pray that someday, somehow, I can find my way back to the light. But for now, I'm lost in the darkness, consumed by my own demons.