I don’t do school shootings. I understand why other people do, but I don’t. I figured out long ago that’s not the route. It’s too merciful.
You don’t take revenge on someone by killing them. You just remove the object to take revenge on from existence that way.
What is a bullet to the head, compared to suffering Alzheimers or lung cancer? An act of mercy.
The real revenge is to have them watch in the mirror, as their hairline recedes and their tits sag.
The real revenge happens every time they watch the clock, wishing they could drive back home already.
The real revenge happens every time they smile politely at their boss because their performance review is coming up.
The real revenge is to have them settle, for someone who would have swiped the other direction if they hadn’t listed their job in their profile.
The real revenge is to have them huddle together in overpopulated cities, as the world around them turns into a desert. I hope they’re dumb enough to have children, because they will hate them for it.
I don’t do school shootings. The whole world is my Columbine High. The whole world is my Virginia Tech. The whole world is my Erasmus MC.
And as much as I would love to say I locked the doors to trap you all in, I didn’t. You did.
The real revenge is the emptiness. The solitude you feel when you are surrounded by people. The real revenge is that little voice inside your head you can’t ignore, that’s asking: “Is this it?” Because I know you can hear it.
You’re trapped here with me and you don’t like it. And you’re going to hate it more every single day. And I will do anything I can to drag it out. That’s my school shooting.