mr self destruct the first 3 chapters
Chapter 1: Curtain Call
"Dear diary
Go to hell I don't want to write in here! It's supposed to be therapeutic though so I guess I’ll give it a whirl. Goddammit this diary isn't going to help me with my speech. Fuck it’s due today!
I sat in class while I waited to present my speech. The presentation was on The Life and Times of Mark Twain. I was all prepared with my speech until I got in front of the podium. My palms became sweaty and I felt that my heart was going to beat out of my chest. As I held the papers, I noticed a tremor in my hand, and I willed it to stop. I was a nervous wreck! I could feel the sweat trickle down my back as a large bead rolled from my hairline. I felt like everyone around me was staring at me like lions ready to pounce a gazelle. I started getting warm and itchy and had to ask to be excused. I couldn’t handle the pressure of the crowd and I was overwhelmed by the astute undivided attention. I was ashamed of the way I performed that I went into the library to hide. The research section was a like a haven. There I hid and tried to cry. After every passing minute I grew angrier, until I slammed a book against the table. It made the loudest thud, but it actually relieved some of my anger. I breathed a deep sigh of relief. I hoped no one heard my bout of aggression, but for now I really didn’t care, my next class wasn’t for a few hours.
There was no getting out of presenting my research the next day. I had to do it in front of Dr. Thomas and take a 10 point demerit for what happened today. My name is Taison and I am a 24 year old college student. I have been working on my associate’s degree for 2 semesters now. I was a late bloomer I guess. I decided to enter the Peace Corps, so I went to college later than most of my peers.
Angela Danson. She was the girl of my dreams. She was popular, beautiful and high maintenance. I don’t even think she knew I existed. It so happened that she also had to do her presentation the same day. Her research was on global warming and I was anxious to hear her speak. She had to present her presentation the same day because I guess she was sick. A hangover doesn’t count as sick, but I guess she thinks so. She didn’t look like she was ready to present either, she was probably one of the party until you drop and fly by the seat of your pants type. As I said, her presentation was on global warming, not that it mattered or anything, Global warming wasn’t going away if it was even real. That’s like people on Facebook trying to ask for likes to help cure an illness or pay a hospital bill. I have been watching her a while and wasn’t sure if she was aware of it. I hope that I could someday make her notice me, though I doubt that would happen. She’s high maintenance after all and completely out of my league. Our presentations went well and this time I did not run for cover. Though I was just as nervous as the day before, I bit down the nausea that rose to my throat and went through it.
After we got done, the professor said we could leave and I breathed a sigh of relief. As I walked out of the classroom I bumped into someone by accident. I was still thinking about Angela and how her singsong voice rang in my ears all morning. The collision brought me out of my thoughts, as I noticed that the guy and I both knocked our books over. I looked up and made contact with the male student. The guy looked like he could crush me, but I showed no fear. He face was twisted in derision and as he sneered at me.
“Hey watch where you’re going asshole! Do you need glasses dumbass? Seriously I should punch you in your face. I would punch you if I wasn’t already late” the guy said arrogantly.
As his acidic tone ripped into me, I felt the heat of anger start to burn in my belly. The more I listened, the bigger the ball of fire got until my skin flushed with its heat. He brushed passed me, almost knocking me over. I watched as he conceitedly walked away.
“Arrogant bastard,” I grunted to myself.
I followed him for a few minutes and watched where he headed. As soon as we passed the classrooms and we were out of range of security cameras, I caught up to him. I grabbed him from behind and could see the startled expression on his face. He opened his mouth to speak, but my doubled fist landed square on his lips. The warm gush of blood hit against my skin.
As my fist landed a few times, I could hear him groan in pain. His blood splattered on my arm and on my face. I felt the rush of anger flow through me. With each strike was a new flow of energy that fed my soul. Inside I felt fulfilled as I saw the blood spill from his mouth.
I savagely beat him until he was curled in the fetal position. To top it off I spit in his face and kicked him in the head. I was about to kick him again when something inside me halted me. .
“Take that asshole! Next time have some consideration. I was going to apologize” I said and I walked away nonchalantly.
I didn’t know wha. t came over me. I felt satisfied and at the same time terrified of my actions. I looked around anxiously hoping no one witnessed it. I also hoped that he didn’t recognize me or anything. I hate people who have to stomp around with a superiority complex. As I tell you my story, don’t be afraid, this is the story of a Sociopath. That's my day in a nutshell diary. Now go to hell"
Chapter 2:Glowing Embers
"Dear diary,
I’m remembering when I went to work for a summer camp. It was the best and worst times of my life. It helped shape who I am in many different ways. Goddammit here come the flashbacks again.
I sat there smiling, as I watched the fire glow red, yellow, and orange. It glistened as the moon rose off in the distance. I heard the howl of a wolf off in the distance and the sound of fireworks cracked loudly. I was slightly amused by the crack of fireworks, but more amused by the glowing fire. I was fascinated in watching something else go ablaze. Oh how I wished something else would go ablaze, but that wouldn’t happen. I still remember when I was younger and my house burned down. It went up in flames like a matchstick and I showed no emotion. The firefighters and police ruled it as an accident due to a lighter, but I knew different, and I wasn’t saying otherwise. I had helped light my sister’s room on fire by giving her the lighter. I would have left her in the burning room screaming too, if she didn’t escape out the window struggling and gasping for air. I was fascinated with the sheer terror on her face and I still remember it to this day. I still remember her shouts to me as she screamed “Taison help. Don’t just let me die in here”. As I watched the fire dance I wasn’t scared of it and I was perplexed why others were. While others worried about getting burnt, I knew to be more scared of a blade than a flame. Shit, I was more scared of a venomous snake than a fire! It was my turn to put my marshmallows into the fire to get them molten hot. I wasn’t admiring the fire for the charred smell of food.
“That’s some nice marshmallow roasting Taison, you seem to be an expert” said lead camp counselor Robert.
“Thanks, I guess. There’s no real technique. Just don’t be afraid of the marshmallow” I said smugly
“Would you like to show the younger kids how you do it?” said Robert.
“Sure. I mean I can try. It’s not that hard” I said trying to brush him off.
I couldn’t stand Robert and I think he could tell. He was a pompous ass and so was everyone else here. The camp was called camp Honeyhole and I was an assistant camp counselor here. I’m 17 and I needed a job and this job was a walk in the park. Why not take a job like this it required no real thinking? I needed the extra money, so what a better way than to work at a camp? I got to vacation for the summer and I got to enjoy my summer somewhere else besides home while getting paid. I live in Flint, Michigan and there’s not much going on here during the summer. The place is a black hole of wasteland and I am unsure why my mom hasn’t moved my sister and I away from here.
Finally, everyone had gluttonously filled up on hot dogs and s’mores thanks to my help. The campfire roared just a little longer as we told ghost stories and sang corny camp songs. Then, Robert threw a pail of water on the fire and that gleam in my eye faded. For the first time that night, I was briefly saddened, not for anyone or anything living, but something destructive. I still remember the sessions I had with my psychologist. She referred to me as a sociopath to my parents and in her notes. I still didn’t completely what that was, but I don’t think it has anything to do with fluffy bunnies and unicorns. From what I read, it has to do with someone lacking sympathy for other living beings. I remember many instances in which that has happened. I wasn’t scared to admit that I was possibly textbook crazy. I also didn’t care what the hell people thought of me either. Were other people willing to admit there problems though? Was my father willing to admit that he is an alcoholic who walked out when things were rough? He left his family high and dry and let them live on scraps. Was my mother willing to admit that she was a drug addict who supported us and her habit turning tricks? I won’t hold my breath on either of them because denial isn’t a river in Egypt. Some people will say to pray for them, but God doesn’t exist. If he really did exist he died because he stopped answering my prayers long ago!
I laid there on a picnic table looking up at the stars. I’m not sure what people actually seen when they looked at the stars, but all I saw was balls of molten hot gas. That may sound like the scientific answer but who the hell cares, if you dress a pig in a dress, it’s still a pig right? Well that’s how I feel right about now as I sit in contemplation. A shooting star went by and I made a wish, not that it mattered, it won’t come true anyways. So dear diary fuck you today okay. Those memories were too painful to relive and to even think of them is a sonofabitch. I think I’m done for now. I’m going to watch a movie on Netflix. I hear they have some decent original documentaries too. "
Chapter 3: The Ruiner
"Dear diary,
Hey go to hell really don't feel like talking, but I'm told it's therapeutic. Shit here comes the flashbacks again. I stood there staring at the bullseye admiring it and trying to visualize the arrow hitting it. The bullseye was 300 feet away, but I was confident I would hit it without a problem. I was told to do that by a trained archer a few years back in an archery class I took. I was told I was a fairly skilled shot, and with practice, I would be someone to not be messed with. I was the last one to shoot and I was trying to earn 150 points for my team to gain a large lead ahead of everyone. I really didn’t need to, I could miss and we would still be ahead, but only by a few points if I missed.
I wanted us to gain a large lead ahead of everyone and that would show that that the Quirky Ducks were just as good as everyone else. I helped lead a group of precocious and energetic 4th graders who everyone thought were geeky. Smart people are the next generations Bill Gate’s, Steve Job’s, Dr. Dre, Mark Zuckerberg, and others. I really didn’t need to get a bullseye, I didn’t need to stress over it, I could miss and we would still be ahead, but only by a few points if I missed. I could hit the other spots on the target and I would still put us at an advantage. I really wanted us to win because the grand prize was lunch with Jason Stathom. The boys were excited about that and they knew they were at a far lead. They really wanted to meet an action star like him this would give them some ambition too.
Oh God, it was happening again! Not again! I was having flashbacks of all of my negative childhood memories. They just keep flooding in and it’s becoming uncontrollable. In my defense I shot the bird by accident and for a quick moment in time I felt horrible. That was the moment in time I felt like I could be responsible for hurting anything or anyone I touched. My teacher took me aside and said
“Since you injured it, you need to put it out of its misery”.
He secretly handed me a hammer and told me to strike the bird in the head swiftly. He walked everyone else away from the injured bird and I clubbed the bird with one good hit and it was dead. I picked it up and wrapped it in my gym towel. As I walked the bird away, I threw the wrapped up bird in the trash. Now this bird was nothing more than trash and I didn’t shed a tear. The bird was a red breasted robin, when I killed it I wondered for the rest of the day if I made the right decision. Should I have had to make that decision of who or what had to live and die? Who pulled the puppet strings and determined who lived and died? That was also the day I questioned the existence of God. If there was a “God” would he let something like this happen?
I shouldn’t get caught up thinking about that too much because I remember once there was a bully who made fun of me and my sister. His name was Bobby Flannigan and I finally got mad at him and beat him until he couldn’t move. After that day, I felt accomplished and no one ever bullied my sister and I. No one ever did it without knowing that they may face repercussions. People called me crazy, but I didn’t care because I fit the bill just fine.
As I stood there my head counselor Bill Johnson came over there and concernedly asked:
“Taison, is everything ok this morning? Everyone is waiting for you to take your shot”.
“Yes everything is just fine this morning. I have a lot on my mind is all” I said sounding glum.
“After lunch today go talk to Dr. Ronson. She is very skilled at listening and she is very friendly. I’m sure you’d like her” Bill said excitedly.
“Ok I suppose I can” I said firing back quickly.
“Sure a paid on the clock session is ok as long as you talk to her” Bill said back quickly.
"Ok no problem” and as I said that I shot a bullseye. Bill couldn’t believe his eyes. I had already shot two bullseyes before that this morning. so dear diary I bid you ado."
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Until next time have a good day. This is Josh over and out.