My Twisted World: The Story of Elliot Rodger, by Elliot

Possibly the world's most popular inclination, the impulse to export your suffering to another seems to be near-universal. Not confined to any race, sex, or age category, the impulse to cause pain appears to well up from deep inside human beings. This is mysterious, because no one seems to enjoy pain when it is inflicted on them. Go figure.

Re: My Twisted World: The Story of Elliot Rodger, by Elliot

Postby admin » Fri Mar 13, 2015 10:10 pm

Part 1 of 6

Part 6: Santa Barbara: Endgame: Age 19-22

On Saturday, June 4th, 2011, I packed up all of my most important belongings into my car, said farewell to my mother, and drove off to face my destiny in the beautiful ocean-side town of Santa Barbara. It was raining as I arrived in the vicinity, and I felt a sense of ominous foreboding as I entered Isla Vista, my new home. My father met me outside my apartment; he came to help me move in.

The two of us walked up to the leasing office where they gave me my new set of keys, and then one of the receptionists walked me to the apartment unit that I will be staying in for a month. I was introduced to two new housemates who would only be there for one week. One of them was named Artem, a quiet Russian student who went to UCSB; and the other, whose name I don’t remember, was a tall blonde surfer-type boy who went to SBCC. I was annoyed at how tall and attractive he was, though I didn’t show it.

After I unpacked all of my belongings, father and I went out for a quick lunch before I said goodbye to him. And that was it. For the first time in my life, I was living independently, miles away from my parents, in a new town. I felt a sudden sense of anxiety, fear, and trepidation; but I also felt a sense of hope that my life could possibly change for the better. I exchanged small talk with my new housemates, and they seemed nice enough. It was hard to believe that I was actually living in an apartment with two other college students who I didn’t know until that day, especially for someone like me who has had very minimal social interaction with other young people. It felt so odd and peculiar. I was uncertain of what to expect, and the anxiety I felt from that uncertainty was overwhelming, but I knew I had to push through this. I knew this was the major turning point of my life. My life was finally changing, and I had to do my best to make that change a positive one.

The very first night was traumatic and gave me a very bad taste about everything. Through my window I heard a lot of students partying outside, and I wondered, with a great amount of fear, how I would ever be able to join in on their fun. That was the reason I was there, after all. I didn’t think I was capable of it. Later in the night, I heard a boy and a girl having sex in the apartment above me. Just knowing that other young men get to enjoy the pleasures of sex while I get none of it has always filled me with envious rage, as well as bitter hatred towards the world; but to actually hear them doing it? That was even more traumatizing. I was prepared for this, however. I had done a lot of research about college life in the town of Isla Vista, and I knew that students had a lot of sex there. I had an inkling of a suspicion that I would eventually hear or even see people doing such things if I lived in that environment. Hell, the reason I moved there was because it was a sexually active place. I myself wanted to be sexually active. But when I heard that couple above me having sex, I couldn’t help feeling vile and miserable about it. I tried to calm myself down and convince myself that soon I will be doing the exact same thing. How wrong I was.

My first week turned out to be very unpleasant, leaving a horrific first impression of my new life in Santa Barbara. My two housemates were nice, but they kept inviting over this friend of theirs named Chance. He was black boy who came over all the time, and I hated his cocksure attitude. Inevitably, a vile incident occurred between me and him. I was eating a meal in the kitchen when he came over and started bragging to my housemates about his success with girls. I couldn’t stand it, so I proceeded to ask them all if they were virgins. They all looked at me weirdly and said that they had lost their virginity long ago. I felt so inferior, as it reminded me of how much I have missed out in life. And then this black boy named Chance said that he lost his virginity when he was only thirteen! In addition, he said that the girl he lost his virginity to was a blonde white girl! I was so enraged that I almost splashed him with my orange juice. I indignantly told him that I did not believe him, and then I went to my room to cry. I cried and cried and cried, and then I called my mother and cried to her on the phone.

How could an inferior, ugly black boy be able to get a white girl and not me? I am beautiful, and I am half white myself. I am descended from British aristocracy. He is descended from slaves. I deserve it more. I tried not to believe his foul words, but they were already said, and it was hard to erase from my mind. If this is actually true, if this ugly black filth was able to have sex with a blonde white girl at the age of thirteen while I’ve had to suffer virginity all my life, then this just proves how ridiculous the female gender is. They would give themselves to this filthy scum, but they reject ME? The injustice!

Females truly have something mentally wrong with them. Their minds are flawed, and at this point in my life I was beginning to see it. The more I explored my college town of Isla Vista, the more ridiculousness I witnessed. All of the hot, beautiful girls walked around with obnoxious, tough jock-type men who partied all the time and acted crazy. They should be going for intelligent gentlemen such as myself. Women are sexually attracted to the wrong type of man. This is a major flaw in the very foundation of humanity. It is completely and utterly wrong, in every sense of the word. As these truths fully dawned on me, I became deeply disturbed by them. Deeply disturbed, offended, and traumatized.

Those two housemates moved out within a week. I was glad to see them go, after that horrible incident. I was then presented with two new housemates, who would be staying in the apartment for the rest of the month that I was there. Their names were Daniel Faynshell and Reed Mankins. Reed was a quiet Asian-American student who was studying biology at UCSB, and Daniel was a heavy-set Russian student who had a witty personality. Both of them were older than me by a couple of years. Daniel was very social and talkative. He often tried to start conversations with me, which I actually liked. Social interaction was always welcome in my lonely life, and I found him to be a very interesting person. It was nice to have someone reach out to me.

Soon enough, my summer session at Santa Barbara City College began. I had enrolled for two classes, a history class and a geography class. The history class started at 8:00 in the morning. When my alarm rang, I enthusiastically put on one my new shirts as I got ready to start my first day of my new college. The weather was sunny and bright as I made the drive down the 101 Freeway. This was it. This was the moment of truth. My whole life has led to this.

I was starting a new college, in a beautiful new town. This was my fresh start to attain the life I’ve been craving for so long. If I am unable to make it in this opportunistic environment, then I am doomed forever.

I felt a surge of confidence as I ascended the flight of stairs that led up to the main campus. For my first class, which was history, I had to cross the iconic bridge to the west campus. I tried to feel as confident and sure of myself as possible, thinking that all of the girls I passed were attracted to my appearance. They should be. I spent a lot of time choosing out that shirt and doing my hair.

When I reached the classroom, I saw some pretty girls waiting outside. My new classmates, I thought with excitement. I was a bit dismayed that they didn’t pay any attention to me. They didn’t even look at me. I was sure I had an attractive appearance that day, but those girls didn’t seem to notice it. Perhaps I was deluding myself.

As all of the students started pouring in, a group of typical popular-type boys sat near me. Their overly social and obnoxious personalities offended me, and I felt like getting up and leaving. They somehow knew all of the pretty girls in the class, and it broke my heart to watch them chat up the girls. How could I compete with those popular kids? I hated them so much. I’ve wanted to be like them all my life, ever since elementary school, but they never accepted me. They have caused my life to be a living hell for so long. Right then, on the very first day of SBCC, I was going through the exact thing as I did at every other school I’ve been to; the feeling of being a lonely, unwanted outcast.

That class was horrible, but I didn’t want to give up so soon. I couldn’t! My whole life depended on my success in Santa Barbara. I attended my geography class next. This class was much more interesting, and more relaxed, but it didn’t have any pretty girls in it. After lunch I walked over to the cafeteria area, and I saw so many pretty blonde girls sitting around. I wished I had the courage to go up to them and ask one on a date, but they would have seen me as a creep. Girls are so cruel.

After I left the campus I drove around downtown Santa Barbara to explore new areas. I went up and down State Street, the main common area of the city where everyone frequents.

Countless restaurants and shops lined a magnificently designed street with wide walkways. It was absolutely beautiful… a true paradise, for those who were thriving there. I can only imagine how heavenly it would be to walk with a beautiful girlfriend down that street. My life would be complete if I get to do that. It would be the epitome of gratifying perfection. To have a beautiful blonde girl by my side, to feel her hand clasping my own as we walk everywhere together, to feel her love! That is what I want in life. Instead, I had to watch other men experience my idea of heaven while I rot in bitter loneliness.

And there were a lot of young couples on State Street. The whole area was full of young people enjoying their pleasurable little lives. I saw groups of good looking popular boys and girls gleefully walking together. It reminded me of that fateful night, years ago, when I walked through the Calabasas Commons and saw the same thing. And there I was, over two years later, still in the exact same position. It was very hard to deal with. I quickly drove back to my apartment and cried to myself, soaking my pillow in the tears of my agony.

So far, Santa Barbara was not working. I dreaded how horrible it would be to continue suffering my miserable, lonely, celibate life in such a beautiful city where everyone else experienced the pleasures of sex and love. That would be the darkest hell. And that was exactly what was in store for me.

After a couple of days I decided to drop my history class. I couldn’t stand watching those obnoxious popular boys talk to all of the pretty girls in the class. The girls actually liked them! I should be the one they pay attention to, but they treated me like I was invisible. I didn’t want to torture myself any longer. I felt a sense of guilt as I did it, because I made a bid to make the best of my time in Santa Barbara. Once the class was dropped, I felt a sense of relief. I was still enrolled in the geography class, and it was only the summer session. I had plenty of time to make up for it.

I spent the rest of my first month trying as hard as I could to put myself out in the social environment of Isla Vista. Daniel was twenty three years old, so I asked him to purchase some alcohol for me, a bottle of vodka in particular. In that college town, everyone went out with at least a little alcohol in their system. I wasn’t an alcoholic, but drinking alcohol always helped me with being more confident and sociable. On weekend nights, I took a few shots from my vodka bottle and set out on walks around the town, desperately hoping that I would stumble across some opportunity to make friends. I often ended

up sitting alone at some café, hoping girls would talk to me before I sobered up. No girl ever did. I then went back home to lie in my bed alone.

On one such night I got drunk enough to introduce myself to some other students who lived in the same apartment complex. They were sitting in the common area of the apartment, and I went up to their group and sat down with them. They weren’t hostile towards me, and I was able to exchange some form of small talk with them. After a while though, I ended up just sitting there awkwardly, and they eventually questioned why I was so quiet. I hated when people did that… no one ever understands the troubles of someone who suffers from social anxiety. They offered me a few beers, which I gladly accepted. I ended up getting so drunk that I completely blacked out. I stumbled back to my apartment and vomited on the floor, just like I did on that embarrassing night at Addison Altendorf’s birthday party. The next morning, I didn’t even remember that I vomited. Daniel informed me of what happened, with an amused grin on his face. I felt so ashamed, but at least I did something more social than anything else I’ve done in the last few years. That was some progress, I supposed.

Due to living in an entirely new environment, with lots of new experiences to come with it, the first month in Santa Barbara went by very slowly. I was relieved when July arrived, and I was able to visit home for a weekend. When I arrived back in Woodland Hills, I felt like I hadn’t been there for ages. It was a pleasant feeling, as it gave me the subconscious impression that my life was finally moving forward instead of staying stagnant.

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When I arrived back at my mother’s apartment, she was away at work, and Georgia was at school. I took a moment to relax after going through so much trauma and unrest, catching up on all of the Game of Thrones episodes that I missed, including the Season 1 finale. Later that night, I met my mother and father at an upscale restaurant near Warner Center, and they both seemed very proud of me. I wasn’t proud of myself, as I barely met my expectations in my first month in Santa Barbara. I had an exquisite meal at the restaurant, and while there I saw a pretty girl walk in with her family. I glanced at her and she glanced at me. I desperately wondered if she thought I was attractive, and I tried to convince myself that she was attracted to me, in an effort to feel better about myself. Whether she was attracted to me or not is a question I will never know the answer to.

There was no school on the following Monday, due to the 4th of July Holiday. I went with my mother to the annual 4th of July party at the Lemelson’s. There, I saw James for the first time in a while. It felt good to see him again. He had been ignoring me in the last couple of months, but the two of us reignited our good friendship at the party. I told him that I was now going to college in Santa Barbara, and he seemed happy for me. As I ate dinner with him, Noah, and a few of Noah’s friends at a table outside, I filmed a funny video that I still have on my phone to this day.

On the next morning, I made my drive back to Santa Barbara to finish the second half of my summer session. I prayed that I would have a better experience from then on.

When I got back to Capri Apartments it was time for me to transfer to my permanent apartment unit, the apartment unit that I was set to stay in for the whole year. I loaded all of my belongings into my car and said goodbye to Daniel and Reed. I enjoyed my stay with them. They made for excellent college housemates. Before I left, Daniel told me that I should come to visit in the future.

My new apartment was in another Capri Apartments building. The main building was on Seville Road, in the center of Isla Vista. The other building that I was meant to stay at was on Abrego Road, a few blocks away, towards the edge of the town. At first I was unsure of the location, though it was still walking distance from all of the action. It was definitely quieter in that area, so that was a positive.

One of the receptionists showed me to my new bedroom. The apartment unit was empty. My new housemates wouldn’t be moving in until August, so I would have the whole apartment to myself for the month of July. I quite liked that. It would provide me with the comfort to settle into the place. I had no

idea who my new housemates were going to be, and I was hoping they would be people I could be friends with to help improve my social life. All of the rooms were randomly assigned at Capri Apartments, so I had no control over who I would end up with. I could only hope that they would be at least tolerable, because they were to be my housemates for the whole year.

My father drove up to Santa Barbara to meet me a few days later. The two of us went to have lunch at a restaurant in the Camino Real Marketplace, an area that I often frequented. When we sat down at our table, I saw a young couple sitting a few tables down the row. The sight of them enraged me to no end, especially because it was a dark-skinned Mexican guy dating a hot blonde white girl. I regarded it as a great insult to my dignity. How could an inferior Mexican guy be able to date a white blonde girl, while I was still suffering as a lonely virgin? I was ashamed to be in such an inferior position in front my father. When I saw the two of them kissing, I could barely contain my rage. I stood up in anger, and I was about to walk up to them and pour my glass of soda all over their heads. I probably would have, if father wasn’t there. I was seething with envious rage, and my father was there to watch it all. It was so humiliating. I wasn’t the son I wanted to present to my father. I should be the one with the hot blonde girl, making my father proud. Instead, my father had to watch me suffer in a pathetic position. Life is so cruel to me. When I said my farewell to father before he drove home, I felt absolutely miserable. I then went back to my room and sulked for hours.

Another incident happened on the following day, near the same location. I went to the Starbucks at the Camino Real Marketplace by myself, like I usually did every morning. I ordered my coffee and sat down on one of their chairs to relax. A few moments later, when I looked up from my drink, I saw a young couple standing in line. The two of them were kissing passionately. The boy looked like an obnoxious punk; he was tall and wore baggy pants. The girl was a pretty blonde! They looked like they were in the throes of passionate sexual attraction to each other, rubbing their bodies together and tongue kissing in front of everyone. I was absolutely livid with envious hatred. When they left the store I followed them to their car and splashed my coffee all over them. The boy yelled at me and I quickly ran away in fear. I was panicking as I got into my car and drove off, shaking with rage-fueled excitement. I drove all the way to the Vons at the Fairview Plaza and spent three hours in my car trying to contain my tumultuous emotions. I had never struck back at my enemies before, and I felt a small sense of spiteful gratification for doing so. I hated them so much. Even though I splashed them with my coffee, he was still the winner. He was going home to have passionate heavenly sex with his beautiful girlfriend, and I was going home to my lonely room to sleep alone in my lonely bed. I had never felt so miserable and mistreated in my life. I cursed the world for condemning me to such suffering.

I wanted to do horrible things to that couple. I wanted to inflict pain on all young couples. It was around this point in my life that I realized I was capable of doing such things. I would happily do such things. I was capable of killing them, and I wanted to. I wanted to kill them slowly, to strip the skins off their flesh. They deserve it. The males deserve it for taking the females away from me, and the females deserve it for choosing those males instead of me.

Ever since I was seventeen, I often fantasized about becoming powerful and inflicting suffering upon everyone who has wronged me in the past, but I never thought I would actually do it. At this point, after going through so much suffering and injustice, all of my innocence had been swept away. The world had been cruel to me, and it molded me to become strong enough to actually have the capability of returning that cruelness to the world. I had never been a violent person in nature, but after building up so much hatred over the years, I realized that I wouldn’t hesitate to kill or even torture my hated enemies if I was given the opportunity.

I spent the next five days in my room, trying to forget about the horrific experiences I had to go through. But even in my room, I couldn’t escape from being reminded of my worthlessness. Every time I

looked out my window to the courtyard, I saw young people socializing. Obnoxious drunk boys were chatting up pretty girls, and I wondered with great panic if they would be having sex together in the night. I often fantasized about barging into their rooms while they had sex and slashing them to death with my knife.

Before I knew it, it was July 12th and the countdown on my internet homepage was up. The new Song of Ice and Fire book, A Dance with Dragons, was released. I emailed my mother to order me the book from Amazon. The countdown was ultimately over, and I had nothing to show for it. I was still a virgin, even after a month of living in a town full of college kids who had sex all the time. I realized that I had only twelve more days as a teenager! I was going to turn twenty very soon. One of my hopes was to at least lose my virginity before my time as a teenager was over. Being a virgin at the age of twenty would make me feel very defeated.

I made a bid to do everything I could to lose my virginity in those few remaining days I had. With a tremendous amount of panic, I wondered what I could possible do. The only thing I could think of was to go out to the common areas of Isla Vista as much as possible. I had to put myself out there, even if it only increased my chances of having sex by one percent. One percent was still better than zero.

For those crucial twelve days I had left as a teenager, I walked over to the center of Isla Vista every day and sat at one of the tables outside Domino’s Pizza, hoping against hope that a girl would come up and talk to me. Why wouldn’t they? I looked good enough, didn’t I? Or did I not look good enough? Such thoughts flew through my head in frantic waves. For dinner, I always walked over to the healthy restaurant called Silvergreen’s. There were always hot girls there, but none of them deigned to even look at me. On every one of those nights, I walked home alone, with my head down in defeat.

I made no progress in school either. My geography class had no pretty girls in it, so I had no hope there. I spent a lot of time sitting in the cafeteria area, but all of the beautiful girls I saw intimidated me too much. One time, as I was walking across the huge bridge that connected the two campuses, I passed by a girl I thought was pretty and said "Hi" as we neared each other. She kept on walking and didn’t even have the grace to respond to me. How dare she! That foul bitch. I felt so humiliated that I went to one of the school bathrooms, locked myself in a toilet stall, and cried for an hour.

On one of my very last days as a teenager, as I was sitting at my usual place at the food court outside Domino’s, I saw a sight that shattered my heart to pieces. A tall, blonde, jock-type guy walked into one of the restaurants, and at his side was one of the sexiest girls I had ever seen. She too was tall and blonde. They were both taller than me, and they kissed each other passionately. They made me feel so inferior and worthless and small. I glared at them with intense hatred as I sat by myself in my lonely misery. I could never have a girl like that. The sight was burned into my memory, and it caused a scar that will haunt me forever. When they walked away, I followed them in my car for a few minutes, and when they entered a less inhabited area I opened my window and splashed my iced tea all over them. It was all I could do at the time, but at least it was something. At least I made some effort to fight back against the injustice. I felt sick with hatred that night. The hatred boiled inside me with burning vitriol.

My summer session ended with no positive effect on my life. After I completed my final exam, on which I received the grade of a B, I drove back to my hometown feeling defeated.

Shortly after, my 20th birthday finally came. Soumaya and Jazz were away in Morocco for the summer, so father met up with me, my mother, and my sister at an upscale restaurant in Encino. My parents didn’t show any concern for how miserable I felt about being a twenty-year-old virgin. They treated it as if it was any normal birthday. They didn’t seem to understand the gravity of the situation, which annoyed me immensely. The restaurant had an "all-you-can eat" buffet system, and I greatly stuffed myself that night. Delicious food was the only vice I was able to enjoy, since I was deprived of sex. I had

a very fast metabolism, so I could eat as much as I wanted without getting fat. I suppose that was one advantage in my rather disadvantageous life.

When I got back to my mother’s apartment, she let me have a bottle of wine, and I truly drank my fill. "Everything’s better with some wine in the belly." I spent the rest of the night pondering over what was in store for me at that point in life. I was no longer a teenager, and I’ll never be able to experience having sex as a teenager. My teenage years were completely denied to me by the cruelness of women. The only way I could make up for it was if I could have an extraordinary sex life in my twenties. I would have to have a profoundly amazing decade in my twenties to compensate for all the misery I experienced in my teens. If I fail to do that, then I have nothing to live for. Sadly, I will only experience the opposite in my early twenties, and it will destroy me.
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Re: My Twisted World: The Story of Elliot Rodger, by Elliot

Postby admin » Fri Mar 13, 2015 10:12 pm

Part 2 of 6

20 Years Old

I stayed in my hometown for a week. One of my birthday presents was a gift card to Nordstrom. I spent it on a couple of new polo shirts that made me feel a little more confident. Buying new clothes would always give me a temporary boost of confidence, and I practiced it as if it was a drug.

Before I left for Santa Barbara, I reunited with Philip and Addison after a very long period of not seeing them. The three of us met up at the Calabasas Commons, and then we went in Philip’s car to Malibu for a few adventures. We ended up settling down at Starbucks and had a few insightful conversations. Addison had changed and matured tremendously, and he was no longer associating with the popular Malibu high school kids. This didn’t change my resentment towards him, and I kept confronting him the whole time about the insulting way he treated me over a year ago. After a lot of debating, we agreed to resolve our conflict with each other. This didn’t mean I forgot all of the slights he dealt to me in the past, however. I never forget. I never forgive. One day I’ll show him how superior I am.

On the day after I saw Philip and Addison, I went over to James’s house. I hadn’t been there for ages, and the two of us relived our traditional walks around the Palisades town center, just like old times. It felt strange and nostalgic to experience it after so long, especially after going through so many changes in Santa Barbara. I told James about my turmoil of being a twenty-year-old virgin, and my desperate hope that things will get better once I start my Autumn semester at my new college. I talked about all the beautiful blonde girls I saw walking around my college, and my deep wish that I will have one day have one as a girlfriend. James sympathized with me greatly, for he was also going through similar troubles in life. He seemed glad that I was finally taking some steps to bring changes to my life.

I drove back to Santa Barbara in a slightly better mood than I was in when I left it. I had a month until the new semester started, and I could use that time to prepare and recuperate. My new housemates were meant to move into the second bedroom of my apartment on August 5th. I had an anxious feeling of anticipation for what they will be like.

August 5th came quickly, and I prepared myself to be in a pleasant mood to meet them. Their names were Ryan and Angel, and to my dismay they were of Hispanic race. In addition, the two of them were already friends with each other, which meant that they could possibly gang up against me if any conflicts were to arise. They also seemed like rowdy, low-class types. My first impression of them soured me, but I tried to be pleasant and not show it. The two of them acted cordial to me on the first day, but after observing them for a bit, I had a bad feeling that they would be trouble to live with… And they were to be my housemates for a whole year! When I was alone in my room, I panicked to myself at how dire a

situation this was. This was extremely disappointing. I was hoping I would get decent, mature, clean-cut housemates. Instead I got low-class scum.

On the second day, they started inviting their equally rowdy friends into my apartment, and we exchanged more small talk. To my indignant surprise, they asked me the question I always dreaded answering: "Are you a virgin?" I admitted that I was a virgin. I always admitted the truth about this. It was my life struggle, and I couldn’t lie about such a thing. They then had the audacity to tell me that they lost their virginity long ago, bragging about all the girls they had slept with. I particularly hated Angel because of his ugly pig-face. How could such an ugly animal have had sexual experiences with girls, and yet I haven’t? What was wrong with this world? I got so angry that I went to my room and punched the wall. They heard me and started laughing. It was almost a repeat of what I experienced with that black boy named Chance in the old apartment, except this time it was worse because these were my housemates for the year!

On the day after, I almost got into a physical fight with Angel. The ugly pig kept acting as if girls thought he was more attractive than me. Hah! I am a beautiful, magnificent gentleman and he is a low-class, pig-faced thug. I had enough of his cocksure attitude, and I started to call him exactly what he was. I tried to insult him as much as I could, telling him how superior I am to him, and saying that he was low-class. He tried to attack me, but Ryan, being the more mellow of the two, held him back. A pity, I was itching for a chance to hurt that obnoxious little animal. Though I suppose it was for the best… My life was too important to risk doing anything rash.

In a panic, I immediately called my mother as soon as I could and told her of the dire situation. There was no way I could live with those two imbeciles for the whole college year. They already ruined my weekend. My mother agreed that I needed to get out of there, so I went to the leasing office and explained to the manager everything that happened. He told me that there was another room available for me to transfer to, but it would cost one hundred more dollars a month, because it was a larger two bedroom unit and I would only be sharing it with one housemate, who would occupy the other room. I called my mother and she gave me permission to go through with it. I signed the new lease, arranging to transfer when the room became available in September. I would have to bear living with them for the rest of the month until then.

To help get through the month, my mother let me come home every weekend until I was able to transfer to the new apartment. I would only stay in Santa Barbara during the weekdays, but on those weekdays Angel and Ryan went out of their way to make my life a living hell. Every time they went out they kept yelling to me how they’re going to sleep with hot girls that night. I knew they were just lying to make me jealous. They always made fun of me for being a virgin. At night, they frequently made noise to wake me up. I was literally being bullied, and it was truly horrific. I wanted to kill them both, but of course I was smart enough not to go through with that desire. All I could do was remember every single insult, so I can get revenge in a more efficient way in the future. That is who I am. I don’t act stupidly or rashly. I remember every insult, and I wait until the time is right to strike. When that time comes, I will crush all of my enemies in the most devastating and catastrophic way possible, and the results will be beautiful.

On one of the weekends in which I went home during August, my mother moved out of the Versailles apartment complex, and moved into the Summit Townhomes, near Warner Center. It was an abrupt decision to move there. I helped her pack everything and watched as the movers transported all of our belongings to the new place. The Summit was much nicer looking than her old apartment; I’ll say that for it. It was a townhome with an upstairs room that I would occupy whenever I visit home.

I was glad that she moved to a better place, but I would have much rather she got married to a wealthy man and moved into his mansion. Even though she was no longer seeing Jack, she dated other men of high class. She had a special way of charming them. I continued to pester her to get married so

that I can be part of an upper class family and enjoy all the benefits that would come with that, but she always refused, claiming that she never wants to get married due to her unpleasant experiences with my father. I told her that she should suffer through any negative aspects of marriage just for my sake, because it would completely save my life, but she still refused.

I went over to James’s house during my visit home. The two of us chatted online a lot, and when I told him that I was in town, he seemed eager to see me. I was eager to see him too, as he was my closest friend and I had a lot to talk to him about. I drove up Topanga Canyon to his house, not knowing that it will be the last time I ever visit him.

The two of us did what we usually did. We walked out to the Palisade’s Bluff’s where we discussed our hopes and dreams. We then went to the Palisades town center to have dinner. This time we chose to eat at Panda Express. While we were eating, some high school kids walked in. James saw them first, and right when he saw them he said the words "We’re fucked". James knew I would have trouble with them. They were popular boys who had a flock of pretty girls with them. One of them sat down with two of the girls, putting his leg up on another chair with a cocky smirk on his face. I was livid with rage, and I wanted to pour my drink all over his head. James knew exactly what I was planning to do; we had been through similar incidents before. He made a lot of effort to try to dissuade me from acting on my anger, pointing out that there was a security guard nearby. I did the only other thing I could do; I packed up my dinner and left the restaurant, fleeing in defeat and shame. James soon followed, and we decided to finish our meal at his house.

A dark and ominous aura clouded over our friendship that day. When the two of us got back to James’s house, I was still seething with rage. I didn’t understand why James wasn’t angry like me. The sight that we just witnessed was horrible to watch. To see another male be successful with females is torture for males like us who have no success with females. I was so angry that I told James of all of the acts of revenge I wanted to exact on those popular boys. I told him my desire to flay them alive, to strip the skins off their flesh and make them scream in agony as punishment for living a better life than me. James became deeply disturbed by my anger. I wished that he wasn’t disturbed. I wished he could be a friend that felt the same way about the world that I did. But he wasn’t that kind of person. He was a weakling.

Once I had calmed down, the two of us had a long conversation in his room, and I ended up crying in front of him as I explained how hopeless I felt about life. Soon after that, I left his house, never to return there again. He will never invite me over after that incident, and our friendship will slowly fade to dust.

During the last few days that I had to endure living with those barbaric housemates, I often walked out to Isla Vista hoping that I could meet a girl and take her home with me. I wanted to prove to them all that girls liked me, to see the look on their faces when they see a girl by my side. But of course, I had nothing to prove because girls didn’t like me. Every time I tried to go out and meet a girl, I ended up walking home alone in anger. On one of these nights, I crossed paths with a boy who was walking with two pretty girls. I got so envious that I cursed at them, and then I followed them for a few minutes. They just laughed at me, and one of the girls kissed the boy on the lips. I’m assuming she was his girlfriend. That was one of the worst experiences of torture from girls that I’ve had to endure, and it will be a scar in my memory forever, to remind me that girls think I’m unworthy compared to other boys. I ran home with tears pouring down my cheeks, hoping that my horrible housemates wouldn’t be there to witness my shame.

I tried to spark a positive attitude on the first day of my Autumn semester at Santa Barbara City College. I was registered for three classes; history, astronomy, and math. My history and astronomy classes were in the morning, and my math class was late in the afternoon, so on school days I had to

spend the entire day at the college. I figured this would be beneficial, because it would keep me out of my room and in a place where possible opportunities might come my way. I had to wait a couple of hours before my math class started, and I spent those hours roaming around the college or sitting in the library, looking at all of the hot girls and wishing I could have one as a girlfriend. I was like a starving man surrounded by a feast that I was prohibited to eat.

All of my classes left me feeling hopeless and depressed. Not only was I unable to meet any girls, and there were a lot of pretty ones, but I also had a hard time making any friends. I’ve always had a hard time making friends… I’m not the type of person that can fit in with a group of outgoing people; the last time I did such a thing was when I was twelve. I had to make friends. Having a social circle will provide me with more opportunities to meet girls, and it was the only way to get invited to all of those exciting college parties. But no one even wanted to be my friend. I actually tried to initiate small talk with guys who sat next to me, but it never went far. I had a horrible feeling that I was in for a very miserable time in Santa Barbara.

I did make one friend through spending time in my apartment’s courtyard. This friend’s name was Andy Chan; he was a foreign student from China. Andy shared the same eagerness as I did to experience college life in Isla Vista to the fullest; and unlike most people my age, I found him to have some intelligence and substance. The two of us walked out to Del Playa Street in Isla Vista a few times, the place where all the parties happen, but nothing ever came of it. I still felt like an outcast, even though I had a friend with me; and I still felt inferior compared to all of those guys who walked around with beautiful girls.

On September 5th, I was finally able to move into my new permanent apartment unit. I felt relieved that I would never have to deal with the likes of Ryan and Angel ever again, though I did worry that I will eventually run into them again because my new unit was still in the same apartment complex. Once I was given the keys, I quickly transported all of my belongings to the new place. I was supposed to have only one housemate who would live in the other room of the unit, but he hadn’t moved in yet. I had no idea who my new housemate would be, but I was told that he was an older student who attended the University. That knowledge made me feel assured that he would be tolerable to live with. He was set to arrive in two weeks, so I had the place to myself until then.

I unpacked all of my things and set up my new room. Once I was done, I looked at it and thought to myself that this was it; this was my new living place in the college town of Isla Vista, and if I could finally have the life I wanted, then this may well be the room where I lose my virginity! How wrong I was. It would only be another room where I suffer miserable loneliness. No girl will ever step foot in it.

Santa Barbara was not going well for me. I was already months into my twentieth year and I had nothing to show for it. As I spent the first weeks of September in my new room, all alone, I fully realized how much I was failing at life. Santa Barbara was supposed to be a place of hope, a place where I could start a new, happy life. I couldn’t believe how wrong everything was turning out. Instead of finally getting a chance to live a life of sex and love like other young people did, I only experienced worse rejection and humiliation than I had ever experienced before. This was unbelievable and unforgivable. If humanity continued to insult me with such cruelty, then there really was no hope for happiness in my life.

At Santa Barbara City College, I had exactly the same experience that I had at Moorpark. I had to watch beautiful young people enjoying their lives together as I languished in loneliness and despair, because no one accepted me. I dropped my math class – I just couldn’t bear having to be at the college all day long, sitting in the library watching couples kiss each other. I retained my two morning classes only because there was still some small inkling of desperate home inside me.

My usual day went as follows: I woke up alone in my bed, with no girl beside me, and did a few minutes of exercise before I showered and got ready for college; I then drove to Starbucks to have my morning latte and felt envious whenever I saw a young couple there; I would then attend my two classes where no one said a word to me, having to endure the torment of watching other guys talking to the girls I liked; And then I would go home alone, open the door to my lonely room, and feel absolutely miserable. The loneliness was suffocating. I could barely breathe. If only one pretty girl had at least given me a chance and tried to get to know me, everything would have turned out differently, but girls continued to treat me with disdain.

The loneliness was torturing me so intensely that I even started up my WoW account and played the game constantly for the month of September. James still played WoW, and the two of us played together online for a few days, but he treated me very coldly the whole time. I could tell that the kind of friendship we had for so many years no longer existed. That last incident in the Palisades stabbed our friendship deeply, and it was in the process of bleeding away. At the time, I felt offended by his attitude towards me, so I called him out on it. This sparked a long argument between us that resulted in James refusing to talk to me online anymore. A few days after that, I deactivated my account again.

My new housemate arrived in the middle of September. His name was Spencer Horowitz; a short, chubby UCSB student who was about a year older than me. He seemed like a friendly, mature sort of person; definitely a pleasant contrast from the housemates I had to suffer through in the previous month. I didn’t expect to have any problems with him. However, I was a disappointed due to the fact that I was hoping my new housemate would be someone I could relate to… someone who could be my friend and help me integrate with the social life in Santa Barbara. I didn’t see Spencer as the type of person I would become friends with. We could get along, but we had nothing in common.

In addition, I was a bit shocked when Spencer told me that he used to have a girlfriend. It was a casual comment that came out of a conversation we had. I didn’t understand how a chubby and unattractive guy like Spencer would have been able to get a girlfriend, while I’ve never had the chance to. The guy was three inches shorter than me, and even I am considered short for my age. I could not fathom how such a thing was possible, and I concluded to myself that this former "girlfriend" of his that he mentioned must have been just as unattractive as he was. There was no need for me to be jealous.

After a few weeks of living with him, I realized that I had a psychological problem with his presence in my apartment. Even though there was no trouble between us, I hated having someone constantly in my vicinity to judge how pathetic my life was. I could hide the details of my lonely, celibate life from the rest of the world, but I could not hide it from Spencer. The fact that I never had any girls over to my room was clear enough that I was an undesirable outcast, and I hated it when people knew this about me and judged me for it. Spencer was there to witness it all, and I would eventually come to hate him just because of that.

During the months of October and November, I made another desperate bid to improve my social life as best as I could. I failed in making any friends in my two college classes, and I didn’t have any interactions with girls at my school. I was an invisible ghost, just like I had always been.

I continued to see Andy, the one friend that I made. We often met up to have dinner at a restaurant somewhere. He soon introduced me to a few friends of his. One of them was named Stan, a European from Holland whom I particularly got along with. I enjoyed having conversations with Stan about a wide variety of subjects, including politics, history, business, and architecture. I wisely refrained from revealing any of my political views, of which disturbed most people.

During the month of October I went out with Andy, Stan, and some of their friends quite often. We did things like walk around State Street or Isla Vista, or went to the movie theatres together. I soon found that even having these few acquaintances to hang out with didn’t make me feel any better. I still

felt inferior whenever I saw other guys walking with beautiful girls. At the movie theatres, I felt just as pathetic about walking in there with a group of friends as I did years ago when I went to the movies with my parents… It was that pathetic feeling of not having a hot girlfriend on my arm while some other boys in the theatre did. What I truly wanted… what I truly NEEDED, was a girlfriend. I needed a girl’s love. I needed to feel worthy as a male. For so long I have felt worthless, and it’s all girls’ fault. No girl wanted to be my girlfriend.

Halloween weekend in the college town of Isla Vista is a renowned event. Young people pour in from all over the county to attend the raucous parties there. My experience during this weekend is just what one would have expected it to be, a miserable disaster.

When I was a child, I used to love Halloween. It was a holiday of fun and excitement where I went trick-or-treating, going from house to house collecting candy with my friends and family. For young adults, Halloween is a very different sort of holiday, of which one is supposed to dress up in sexually explicit costumes, attend wild drinking parties, and have sexual experiences with girls. For other young people, who are able to do such things, Halloween must be a blast. But I am unable to do such things. I wasn’t invited to ANY party, and girls don’t want to have sex with me. As a teenager and a young adult, Halloween has been a holiday of torment and depression because of this. In Isla Vista, this was greatly intensified.

I tried my best to put myself out there on the Halloween weekend. I made many laps around Isla Vista, trying to bolster up the courage to talk to a girl or walk into a party, but I just couldn’t. I knew they would all reject me. What I saw during those walks shook me to the very core. Girls dressed up in extremely revealing outfits, and the sight of them filled my sex-starved self with hunger and desire that I knew I could never quench.

On the last night of the Halloween weekend, I went out there with Andy and Stan and a few others. It made absolutely no difference. We didn’t get into any parties, and just walked around the streets like losers. Being friends with them wasn’t benefitting me at all.

If only I had a beautiful girlfriend to experience such an event with! I would have even dressed up in a costume with her. It would have been so blissful and euphoric, to walk around in all of that excitement with a beautiful girl on my arm, to attend every single party because anyone would admit a beautiful girl into it, to make passionate love to her in my room at the end of the night, to snuggle next to her sexy warm body as we drift off to sleep together. THAT is the life I should have lived. So many other guys are able to experience that, and just thinking about if filled me with extreme agony. Life is not fair.

In November, my brief friendship with Andy, Stan, and their group faded away. I often saw on Facebook that they did things together without even inviting me, which is the same thing I’ve had to experience with other groups of friends that I’ve had in the past. I was always an outcast, even among people I knew. I grew tired of their lack of consideration for me, so I stopped calling them. They weren’t even popular anyway, and I wasn’t benefitting at all from their friendship. I still continued to meet with Andy at restaurants on occasion, however.

Every day that I spent at my college, the more inferior and invisible I felt. I felt like such an inferior mouse whenever I saw guys walking with beautiful girls. I hated having to endure it, but I had already worked so hard on my two classes that I couldn’t quit just then. The only way that I could gain a boost in to my self-esteem was to buy better looking clothes.

My mother gave me a few more gift cards to Nordstrom, and I spent them on $200 dollar designer Jeans. When I wore these to school, I saw that I was wearing better Jeans than most other guys, and that made me have a slightly higher sense of self-worth. I also bought a few more shirts, and a pair of new Hugo Boss sneakers.

Doing this started a new obsession for me. I became more and more obsessed with my appearance. Because my mother, father, and grandmother constantly paid me extra money now that I was living in Santa Barbara, I had saved up enough to indulge in this obsession. Familiarizing myself with all of the top designer brands, I bought new clothes every time I visited my hometown. My favorite brands were Hugo Boss and Armani. I always stopped by at the Camarillo shopping center on my way back to Santa Barbara. I loved it there – they had a store for almost every brand.

One time, as I was shopping at the Calvin Klein store in Camarillo, I saw such a sexy-looking blonde girl with perfectly tanned skin. She looked so beautiful and sexy that I had an erection instantly. Oh, the heavenly things I wanted to do to her… And then I saw her hunk of a boyfriend. My entire being was filled with anguish and despair. I could only imagine how amazing and pleasurable that guy’s life was. They were older than me – probably mid-twenties – and I thought with desperate hope that when I’m that man’s age I would be worthy enough to have such a girlfriend by my side, to shop with her at that same shopping mall in heavenly bliss. My life was a life of starvation and yearning.

I visited home for Thanksgiving, and went with my mother to Rob Lemelson’s house for a small Thanksgiving get-together. James was there… And the last time I spoke to him since then was when we had our bitter argument online. The one person who has been my friend through all of my hardship didn’t even want to speak to me during Thanksgiving. I tried to ask him why he was overreacting about an argument we had two months previously, but he just glared at me coldly and told me to "keep my proximity". I was highly offended.

After a few hours, the Thanksgiving feast was served. To my profound annoyance, Julian Ritz-Barr and his equally obnoxious older brother Leon Ritz-Barr also came for the dinner. I remembered the extreme envy I felt for Julian months ago, and I tried to ignore them as much as possible, which proved to be difficult because they talked loudly all the time.

I was seated next to James for the dinner, and after awkwardly sitting next to each other for a few moments, he decided to warm up to me again. As the two of us caught up with each other about our lives, a small inkling of our old friendship ignited like a weak flitter of flame in a candle. It was nice, for the brief moment that it lasted. The two of us talked about our usual fantasy scenarios, and joked about how stupid and obnoxious the Ritz-Barr brothers were acting.

On that same weekend that I went home, I got together with Philip and Addison. The three of us went out to a restaurant in L.A., and then we headed to the Griffith Park Observatory, just like old times. The last time I was there with the two of them was on that horrible night when Addison told me that "No girl will ever want to fuck me." The words were still embedded in my mind, and going to Griffith Park reminded me of that night. The three of us took a few pictures of us posing at various spots at the Observatory, some of which were uploaded onto Facebook, and then we went to the Calabasas Commons to hang out at Barnes & Noble, where I had a few insightful conversations with Addison. Despite our past hostilities, I considered Addison to be one of the most interesting people I knew.

I went back to Santa Barbara for a couple of weeks to finish off my two classes. In my history class, I kept feeling weak with inferiority as I watched this tall, handsome blonde jock constantly sit and talk with two beautiful girls. There was no way that I couldn’t watch it; they were in the middle of the class. I hated that class so much, and I decided to stop attending it until the final exam. Once I took the final exams, I felt glad to be done with those horrifically frustrating college classes.

It was just as I had feared. My first actual semester at Santa Barbara City College was an absolute, brutal failure. I didn’t even have one girl’s phone number in my cell phone. Was I going to be a virgin forever? I franticly wondered as I drove away from my school after taking my exams. I felt like my whole life was over. If I couldn’t make it in such a beautiful and opportunistic place like Santa Barbara, then I

was doomed to misery and dissatisfaction. I knew that I would rather die than suffer such a fate, and I knew that if it came to that, I would do everything I can to exact revenge before I die. I didn’t want it to resort to that! Some part of me still clung to hope. I didn’t want to give up so soon.

As I made the long scenic drive back to my hometown for the Holidays, I made a vow to give it all another try when I start my new semester in the Spring, and to use the time I had during the winter break to prepare for it as much as I could.

My mother told me that she had made plans for me, my sister, and her to go to England for a week. Upon hearing this, I said I didn’t want to go. I felt so dissatisfied and defeated, and I didn’t want to appear that way to my relatives in England. There was nothing about me that they could be proud of. I felt ashamed of having to face them the way I was. After some persuasion, I agreed to go. I figured that if anything, it would give me a respite from all the pain society has dealt to me, just like our old visits to Jack’s beach house in Malibu.

Before we left for England, we attended the annual Christmas party at the Lemelson’s. I had recently bought a flashy new shirt from Armani Exchange that made me feel particularly fabulous, so I decided to wear it for the party. I loved admiring how awesome I looked in the mirror as I wore it. Wearing flashy new clothes made me feel like a new person. I found it to be a very efficient way to boost my confidence. When I entered the party, I felt gratified when Sue Lemelson, Rob’s ex-wife, complimented me on how good I looked. My mother pointed out that it was unusual for Sue to compliment anyone, so I must have made a good impression.

James was at the party, of course. He didn’t act outwardly cold toward me this time, but there was still a distance between us. During the course of the event, I had my fill of multiple glasses of wine as I casually chatted with James about my insights and life problems. We interacted as if we were still friends, but I could tell that things were very different between us. The friendship that we have had for so long was dying. When I said goodbye to him that night, it was the last time I ever saw him.

After having a quick Christmas celebration at father’s house, I took off for England with my mother and sister. We flew Business Class on Virgin Atlantic, and since they followed the laws of the U.K., I was allowed to drink alcohol on the flight. I took delight in sipping the wine that was served while I enjoyed the relaxing journey. The last time I had been on an airplane since then was the disastrous trip to Morocco when I was seventeen, and this made for a pleasant contrast.

When we landed in England I felt the sense of wonder that came with being in another country. I hadn’t been to my home country of England for almost a decade, and I couldn’t believe I was there once again. The decision to go on the trip came so quickly. We stayed at a very nice hotel in the town of Colchester, near where my relatives on my mother’s side live, including my grandma Ah Mah. After we unpacked all of our belongings, we went to their house for dinner. I hadn’t seen those relatives since our trip to Malaysia. It felt peculiar to see them all again. They were exactly the same as I remembered. It was very heartwarming to see that grandma Ah Mah had baked her delicious peanut cookies that I loved so much as a child; she had them ready and waiting for me.

We visited them again on Christmas Day. They prepared an exquisite lunch, and afterward we exchanged our gifts. I got a bit drunk on that day, as it was the only thing I could do to pass the time. I tried to relax and forget about all of the pain I had experienced in Santa Barbara. I wished there was something I could talk to my relatives about that would make them proud, but there was nothing interesting or impressive about my life to talk about. I wished that I could show my grandma that I was thriving in Santa Barbara; that I had a girlfriend and I was enjoying a full and healthy life. But no, that is something I was never able to do. I felt so ashamed of myself.

My grandma, Ah Mah, gave me a gift of great value. After we exchanged all of the presents with the relatives, Ah Mah presented me with a 22 karat golden necklace. It was very extravagant, and it had been in her possession for a long time. Now it was mine. I wore it instantly and took a great liking to it. From then on, I would wear it in every waking moment. I could have sold it for well over a thousand dollars, but I never did. It was special to me.

My favorite part of the trip was the breakfasts at the hotel. The hotel we stayed at was quite luxurious, even by my standards. And the breakfasts… they were absolutely delicious. Every morning there was a buffet full of delectable choices, such as crispy pork sausage, croissants, bacon, ham, roast potatoes, all kinds of fruit, and much more. On every one of those mornings, I stuffed myself like there was no tomorrow. I was deprived of sex all my life, so the only vice that I could derive a sense of pleasure from was eating delicious food. I took full advantage of that on this trip. My high metabolism prevented me from getting fat from it.

Before the trip was over, we all went on a tour through London. We were supposed to visit grandma Jinx in Smarden on that same day, but grandma Jinx was in France at the time. We rented a comfortable Mercedes van that could fit eight people and made a long drive through the English countryside to the capital city of London. I didn’t remember much of the city from my previous visits, so it was kind of like a new experience for me. I found the city to be very ugly in most areas, but in contrast there were some attractive parts that were awash with beautiful architecture and a cultural atmosphere. Once we parked our van we set out on foot, and sometimes took the Underground subway, to explore all of the main attractions of the city. It was cold, dreadfully cold, but I bore it without much concern. Walking through the streets of London at night, especially in Trafalgar Square and the area around Harrods was truly breathtaking, or it would have been if I had a beautiful girlfriend by my side to experience it with me. It was the sort of place that one would go with a girlfriend, and I had none. I saw other men being able to experience it with their girlfriends, and the sight soured my whole experience. When we had dinner at a restaurant, I scoffed a big meal and imbibed two glasses of wine to make myself feel better during the rest of our tour. My favorite part was walking through the store Harrods. Harrods is a gigantic, renowned luxury designer clothing store. Every facet of it exuded beauty and excessive opulence. It was my type of place. I wished I was rich enough to buy anything I wanted at the store – there were so many choices of fabulous clothing – but alas, I had to settle with buying only one Giorgio Armani shirt. If my mother had been wise enough to marry one of those wealthy men she dated, perhaps then I would have been rich enough. Such a pity.

At the end of the night of our London tour, I felt cold and miserable. Walking through that exciting, cultural city made me realize that the world was full of wonders to explore, but if I had to do it alone while other men were able to do it with their girlfriends, then what was the point? My life was so mundane and wasteful compared to the lives all those other men lived. They were in heaven and I was in hell.

When we took off on the airplane for the journey home, I wondered how my life would have turned out if we never moved to the United States. I saw a lot of beautiful blonde girls in England, just like there were in California. Would I have lived a completely different type of life? Would I have been able to have a girlfriend in England? Would girls in England have been more accepting of a guy like me? Those are questions I will never know the answer to.

I spent a few hours recovering from jet lag after we arrived home. On the day after that, it was New Year’s Eve. I didn’t want a repeat of the previous New Year’s, when I spent them alone and miserable in my room, so I decided to go with my father and Soumaya to a party and Antje Twinn’s house. My father was still friends with them, despite not being friends with the Bubenheim’s anymore. I wanted to wear something new for the party, in order to boost my sense of self-confidence, so I went to Nordstrom and bought a new, flashy Hugo Boss shirt, decorated with different hues of blue.

I didn’t have dinner before the party, because I expected dinner to be served there. When we got there, I saw that they didn’t offer dinner, only a few party snacks; but there was lots and lots of wine. I heard from Antje that Vincent was in town, but he was attending a party at Leo Bubenheim’s house, with all of Leo’s popular teenage friends. The mere mention of Leo put me in a bad mood. I couldn’t believe that Vincent, too, was now experiencing the pleasures of partying with young people while I sat all alone at the adult’s party, sipping my wine in lonely depression. I should be partying with my own friends, and my own girlfriends, but I had NONE.

After I had already gotten quite drunk from having so much wine on an empty stomach, I overheard Antje talking to her friend about how Vincent now had a beautiful girlfriend. She was so proud of her son. That is something my mother was never able to tell her friends about me. I had never had a girlfriend in my WHOLE LIFE! I remember when Vincent used to be a little nine-year-old boy while I was thirteen. He used to look up to me, and he always watched me play my online games on father’s laptop. Now, he was sixteen and I was twenty. He had the pleasure of having a girlfriend, while I’ve never had one. I was four years older than him, but he surpassed me. The envy, rage, and feeling of inferiority I felt almost made me explode with rage right there at the party, but instead I went to the bathroom and vented to myself in the mirror of how much I hate Vincent and wanted to kill him. I drank a lot more wine that night, pouring myself glass after glass. By the time Vincent arrived after his party at Leo’s, I greeted him with drunken contempt, and drank even more wine. I drank too much. On the next morning, I thanked the heavens that at the end of the party I had the sense to go to the bathroom to vomit instead of vomiting in front of everyone. That would have been extremely embarrassing.

I spent a week at my mother’s house before I went back to Santa Barbara to give my life there another try. During this week, I once again met up with Philip and Addison. This outing was much longer than the last. I decided to wear the same Hugo Boss shirt that I wore for New Year’s. First, we went on a hike up to the Hollywood sign and watched the glorious sunset. Afterwards, we visited the Getty Museum to admire the brilliant scenery and architecture. While there, I overheard Philip telling Addison that some girls were checking him out. Feeling jealous, I asked Philip if any of those girls checked me out, and he had the audacity to say no, none of them did. I felt so heartbroken that I left the two of them and cried to myself, ruining my whole experience at the museum. How could girls check out Addison but not me? I asked myself repeatedly as I tried to hide my tears from people who walked by me. I walked out to the edge of the grand terrace of the museum, looking out at the city lights of Los Angeles as well as the stars above. In that moment, I fell into a sort of despair-ridden trance, contemplating my reason for existing in this universe and what was in store for my future. It was a very ominous and surreal experience. I calmed down when we left the museum and acted cordial to both of them. I didn’t want to spoil the night with my emotional problems. We toured around Hollywood for a bit, and while there I saw lots of young people out and about with their attractive cliques of friends. The sight enraged me for the rest of the night. We decided to have dinner at a restaurant on Sunset Boulevard. At the restaurant, there were three hot model-like girls who sat a few tables down from us. Their bodies looked so sexy and tantalizing that Philip had to go to the bathroom to masturbate. I was itching to do exactly the same thing, but I didn’t want to look like a fool in front of Addison.
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Re: My Twisted World: The Story of Elliot Rodger, by Elliot

Postby admin » Fri Mar 13, 2015 10:12 pm

Part 3 of 6

When I got home, I began to cry because of all the emotions I experienced that night. My mother heard me and showed some concern, as she always did. She was used to me crying a lot, but she never understood why I was so miserable. I always had to explain it to her – that I was a lonely, miserable, unwanted virgin who women treated with disdain – but she could never grasp how severe this was to me. After all, how could she? She was a woman herself.

I arrived back in Santa Barbara with a renewed, carefully constructed sense of confidence, especially because of the new collection of designer clothes I had bought over the winter break. I tried to adopt a

sophisticated and suave persona, and made my accent sound more eloquent. I did this out of the hope that girls would find something attractive about it. It was the only persona that truly fit me. I was incapable of being an outgoing, boisterous jock, and I didn’t want to be one. I was disgusted by such people, and I was disgusted at how girls were attracted to such filth. I wanted them to be attracted to me. That is how it should be, and I deserved it.

During the few weeks I had before my first day of class, I couldn’t really do anything to improve my social situation. I had a fear of going out to Isla Vista without any friends, and I was hoping to make those friends once college started. Because of this, I became depressed again from all of the loneliness. Even though Spencer was there, I felt completely and utterly alone, as the two of us never talked that much.

So far, Spencer and I had gotten along quite well despite the fact that we never talked much. An incident happened at the end of January that changed all of this. I one day discovered that Spencer had a girl in this room. I couldn’t believe it. The short, chubby guy was able to get a girl into his room before I did! I was so shocked and outraged that I waited outside his room until the girl left, so I could get a glimpse of how she looked. To my relief, she wasn’t that attractive. What made me even more angry is that Spencer gave me a smug look when I saw the girl, even though she was ugly. He had the nerve to feel like he was better than me, just because he managed to get a girl over to the apartment before I did! I confronted him in the kitchen on that same night, telling him that he is foolish to feel proud about having an ugly whore in his room. This made him angry and offended, which is what I wanted. I wanted to offend him as punishment for his insolence. After that incident, the two of us became more and more hostile towards each other.

In the beginning of February, my Spring semester at Santa Barbara City College began. The classes I registered for were Sociology, Math, Film Studies, and English. My English class was an online class, but the other three were normal classes that I attended at the college. Sociology and math were on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and my film class was on Friday mornings. It made for a convenient setup.

This was the last chance. I had already failed to change my life in the last semester. I must not fail again. I remembered how hard it was to keep up those two classes in the Autumn. The people in them made me feel so miserable. I knew that if the same thing happens in the coming semester, I would end up dropping all of my classes, and if that happened, all of my hope would be doomed.

On the morning of the first day, I donned my fabulous Armani Exchange shirt and put on my new Gucci sunglasses that my mother gave me. I admired myself in the mirror for a few moments, and began to feel a surge of enthusiasm. I wanted everyone to see me looking like that. I was hopeful that some girls would admire me. I said to myself that there was no way I could possibly have trouble with getting girls now. I stopped by at Starbucks to buy a latte and set off for my college with the confidence that I would appear as a superior gentleman to all of the students there. I was a superior gentleman. That was what I was born to be, and it was now time to show it to the world.

It was a bright, sunny day as I as ascended the familiar steps up to the beautiful college campus of SBCC. I immediately went to the restroom to look at myself in the mirror a few times, just so that I can feel more assured of myself. Yes, I thought. I am the image of beauty ad supremacy. I kept saying it over and over again, as if it was a mantra. When I crossed the renowned bridge that connected the two halves of the campus, I felt as if everyone was admiring me. As I passed by groups of girls, I pretended to imagine that they secretly adored and wanted me. After all, that was how it was meant to be. The more I walked around the campus, the more I tried to convince myself that that was the case.

My first class was sociology, and I waited until everyone was seated before I walked in. I came in through the front entrance so that everyone could look at my fabulous self. To my utter dismay, I saw that no one turned their head to look at me at all. No girl tilted a head or lifted a pretty little eyebrow at my approach. After all that effort, I was still being treated like I was invisible.

The sociology class flew by like a breeze, and my next class was math. In this class, I saw one of the prettiest girls I had ever seen in my life. She was the only pretty girl in the class, and she was absolutely stunning. Of course, she didn’t even notice me as I walked in. Her beauty was so intimidating that I couldn’t bring myself to sit near her, out of fear of her judgment. As the lecture proceeded, I couldn’t help myself from constantly glancing at her, admiring every inch of her enticing body, from her silky blonde hair to her smooth, skinny, lightly tanned legs. The most beautiful thing about her was her face. It was a face that broke my heart the second I laid eyes on it. I wanted her with so much intensity, and I constantly fantasized about her during my masturbation sessions. This was the kind of girl who was always meant to be my girlfriend. This was the girl that I was meant to go through college in Santa Barbara with. My life would only have meaning if I could go through college with a girlfriend like her.

As I made my way back from school one day during the first week, I was stopped at a stoplight in Isla Vista when I saw two hot blonde girls waiting at the bus stop. I was dressed in one of my nice shirts, so I looked at them and smiled. They looked at me, but they didn’t even deign to smile back. They just looked away as if I was a fool. As I drove away I became very infuriated. It was such an insult. This was the way all girls treated me, and I was sick and tired of it. In a rage, I made a U-turn, pulled up to their bus stop and splashed my Starbucks latte all over them. I felt a feeling a spiteful satisfaction as I saw it stain their jeans. I then quickly speeded away before they could catch my license plate number. How dare those girls snub me in such a fashion! How dare they insult me so! I raged to myself repeatedly. They deserved the punishment I gave them. It was such a pity that my latte wasn’t hot enough to burn them. Those girls deserved to be dumped in boiling water for the crime of not giving me the attention and adoration I so rightfully deserve!

This incident soured my first week of college, but for the sake of all of my hopes and dreams, I tried to forget about it.

For the month of February, I continued with the trend of attending my college classes and trying to make the most of it. With each passing day, my confidence about how I appeared to everyone started to wane. I still didn’t make any friends, and I still didn’t talk to any girls. By the end of the month, I began to question what I was doing so wrong. I saw obnoxious slobs who dressed in basketball shorts and T-shirts walking with hot girls. And there I was, decked out in Armani, all by myself. It was preposterous! I should have been the one walking with the hot girls! I soon realized that no one cared at all about how well I dressed. No girls admired me. No girls even gave me a second look.

I soon found out the name of the beautiful girl in my math class. Her name was Brittany Story. Being the obsessed stalker that I was, I looked her up on Facebook, and what I found shattered my already wounded heart to pieces. She had a boyfriend. Not only that, but her boyfriend was the type of boy I have always hated and despised: a tall, muscular surfer-jock with a buzz cut. As I looked at all the pictures of the two of them together, I shivered with pure hatred. I could physically feel the hatred burn through my entire body. I wanted to kill both of them, and I was capable of doing it. Brittany Story should have been mine, and if can’t have her, no one should! I fantasized about capturing the two of them and stripping the skin off her boyfriend’s flesh while making her watch. Why must my life be so full of torment and hatred? I questioned to the universe with turmoil roiling inside me. I screamed and cried with anguish that day. My housemate Spencer heard it all, but I didn’t care.

I dropped my math class immediately after learning that Brittany had a boyfriend. I couldn’t look at her beauty anymore, knowing that some punk was able to enjoy having sex with her every day. I can only imagine how heavenly that guy’s life must be. He was in heaven and I was in hell. Shortly after dropping my math class, I decided to drop all of my other classes in a rage. There was no point to it anymore. No matter how hard I tried, girls were not attracted to me. What was the point of going through college, getting a degree, and finding some mundane professional job afterwards if I could

never experience the pleasure of girls along the way? I didn’t want to torture myself with going to college and looking at all of those beautiful girls I could never have. Nothing beneficial came out of it. There was no hope for me to ever have a desirable college life. My life was devoid of friends, devoid of girls, devoid of sex, and devoid of love. I realized that I will never be able to look back on my youth, the time that I should be having a blast, and feel satisfied about all of the happy memories I have. There were no happy memories; only misery, loneliness, rejection, and pain. The only thing I could do was even the score. I wanted to make everyone else suffer just as they made me suffer. I wanted revenge.

When I dropped my college classes, I crossed a threshold that I knew existed, but never actually believed I would cross. It completely ended all hope I had of living a desirable life in Santa Barbara. I realized that I would be a virgin forever, condemned to suffer rejection and humiliation at the hands of women because they don’t fancy me, because their sexual attractions are flawed. They are attracted to the wrong type of male. I always mused to myself that I would rather die than suffer such an existence, and I knew that if it came to that, I would exact my revenge upon the world in the most catastrophic way possible. At least then, I could die knowing that I fought back against the injustice that has been dealt to me.

Ever since my life took a very dark turn at the age of seventeen, I often had fantasies of how malevolently satisfying it would be to punish all of the popular kids and young couples for the crime of having a better life than me. I dreamed of how sweet it would be to torture or kill every single young couple I saw. However, as I said previously in this story, I never thought I would actually go through with these drastic desires. I had hope inside me that I could one day have a happy life.

It was only when I first moved to Santa Barbara that I started considering the possibility of having to carry out a violent act of revenge, as the final solution to dealing with all of the injustices I’ve had to face at the hands of women and society. I came up with a name for this after I saw all of the good looking young couples walking around my college and in the town of Isla Vista. I named it the Day of Retribution. It would be a day in which I exact my ultimate retribution and revenge on all of the hedonistic scum who enjoyed lives of pleasure that they don’t deserve. If I can’t have it, I will destroy it. I will destroy all women because I can never have them. I will make them all suffer for rejecting me. I will arm myself with deadly weapons and wage a war against all women and the men they are attracted to. And I will slaughter them like the animals they are. If they won’t accept me among them, then they are my enemies. They showed me no mercy, and in turn I will show them no mercy. The prospect will be so sweet, and justice will ultimately be served. And of course, I would have to die in the act to avoid going to prison.

That is when I realized that this threshold existed, and if I crossed it, I will have to carry out this Day of Retribution. It has remained stagnant in the back of my mind ever since, until this point. After dropping my Spring classes at Santa Barbara City College, I knew that the Day of Retribution was now very possible. I even wrote about it in my diary, but I later tore out the pages because I feared someone might find them. A shiver ran through me, realizing how twisted my world had become, that I would have to resort to doing something that I would consider unthinkable a few years ago. I didn’t want to do it. I wanted to live. Thinking about the Day of Retribution made me feel trapped. I wanted a way out.

After some deep contemplation, I had the revelation that the Day of Retribution wasn’t the only way I could make up for all of the suffering I’ve had to experience. If I could somehow become a multi-millionaire at a young age, then my lifestyle would instantly become better than most people my age. I would be able to get revenge on my enemies just by living above them and lording over them. That was a form of happy, peaceful revenge, and it became my only hope. Once again, I started to desperately ponder over ways that I could become extremely wealthy at a young age. It was my only way out.

This is when I realized that wealth was the only way I could lose my virginity, the only way I could have the beautiful girlfriend I know I deserve. Due to all of my past experiences with girls, it is evident that girls are not attracted to me as a person. They are repulsed by me. The only way I could possible become worthy of their love and attraction is if I become wealthy.

In the beginning of March, I went home in a sullen and disturbed mood. I did my best to hide it from my parents. I also had to hide the fact that I dropped all of my college classes, and I kept up the pretense that I was still attending college, talking to my father about my lectures and so forth.

The weekend that I visited home was quite an eventful one, and I had been looking forward to it for some time. On Sunday, March 11th 2012, I went with my mother and sister to a private, exclusive Katy Perry concert; and on March 12th 2012 I went with my father and Soumaya to the red carpet premiere of the Hunger Games.



The invitation to the private Katy Perry concert was actually meant for Rob Lemelson, as the concert was held for extremely wealthy people who were clients of Net Jets, a private jet company. Rob had no interest in such things, so he gave the tickets to my mother. I was eager to go, because I loved attending exclusive events; it made me feel special. For most of the time spent at the concert, I just walked around at ate food at the buffet tables while everyone waited for Katy Perry to perform. There was upbeat music playing the entire time, and a lot of wealthy families with their kids attended. Every family there must have had a net worth of at least twenty million, to be able to hire private jets. I tried to pretend as if I was part of a wealthy family. I should be. That was the life I was meant to live. I WOULD BE! If only my damnable mother had married into wealth instead of being selfish. If only my failure of a father had made better decisions with his directing career instead wasting his money on that stupid documentary.

I couldn’t help but feel a bitter form of envy at all of the rich kids at the concert. They grew up in lavish mansions, indulged in excessive opulence, and will never have to worry about anything in their pleasurable, hedonistic lives. I would take great pleasure in watching all of those rich families burn alive. Looking at all of them really drilled in my mind the importance of wealth. Wealth is one of the most important defining factors of self-worth and superiority. I hated and envied all of those kids for being born into wealth, while I had to struggle to find a way to claim wealth for myself. I had to be ruthless, and do whatever it takes to attain such wealth. After all, it was my only hope of ever being worthy of getting a girlfriend and living the life of gratification that I desire.

The red carpet premiere of the Hunger Games was an even more exclusive event. The reason we got in was because my father was friends with the director, Gary Ross. My father even contributed to the film as a second unit director. Gary Ross had been coming over to father’s house for dinner quite frequently in the past few months. When he told me about the Hunger Games, I had never heard about it before, so I decided to read the books that the movie would be based on. It was quite an enjoyable story and I became a fan.

At the same time, my step mother Soumaya was in the process of filming a French reality T.V. series, called Les Vraies Housewives. Her status as a reality T.V. star, coupled with my father’s important association with Gary Ross, enabled us all to attain VIP tickets to the red carpet premiere, including admittance to walk on the red carpet itself, which was actually a black carpet, in a literal sense.

I didn’t own any suits, but I wore my extravagant Hugo Boss shirt, which I thought looked elegant enough to walk on the black carpet. As we were lining up for our walk on the black carpet, some dumb bitch of a security guard had the audacity to question "who the hell are these people". This made me so enraged that I almost said "we are people who are more important than you, you ugly cunt", but Soumaya’s publicist calmly informed her of our invitation. We then proceeded to walk across the long black carpet as cameras flashed at us from one side, and a crowd of pathetic fans who reminded me of

sheep cheered from the other side. I felt extremely gratified at walking on the black carpet with father and Soumaya, and I cockily smiled at all of the stupid fans who had to remain on the side, rubbing it right in their faces. There were some actors and celebrities on the carpet with us, and the paparazzi yelled at me a few times to get out of the way as they were taking pictures of some cunt actress. I discreetly gave those paparazzi pigs my middle finger. Elliot Rodger will not move aside for a stupid, good-for-nothing, over-glorified actress, whoever the fuck she was. I didn’t see.

We walked through all the chaos until we finally reached the theatre where the movie was being screened, called the Nokia Theatre. It was one of the biggest theatres I had ever seen, able to see hundreds of people. At the entrance, father and I greeted Jack Ross, the son of Gary Ross. He was a spoiled brat of a sixteen year old, and to my embarrassment he stood taller than me. I immediately hated him on sight. He was living the life I should be living, if only my father had become as successful a director as Gary Ross. I equally hated his repugnant friends, who ended up sitting in front of me and partially blocking my view for the entire movie. Throughout the whole film, I had to fight the urge not to splash my drink all over the little shitheads in a vehement rage. They spoiled it for me, and it was quite a good movie too.

The movie was entertaining, but my favorite part of this premiere was the after party. Yes, we were invited to the after party, where only the most important guests could attend. I felt so special as I handed my VIP tickets to the guards outside, gaining admittance. The party was extravagant, with buffet tables set up in every corner serving exquisite delicacies. I excitedly went from plate to plate, helping myself to all of the food. Father and Soumaya went off to socialize with Gary Ross and his entourage of producers. I didn’t know anyone there, of course, so I just spent time with my sister Georgia.

A few moments into the party, I ran into an old face. He noticed me first and called out my name, saying "Is your name Elliot?" He was none other than Ashton Moio from Pinecrest Middle School! I hadn’t seen him since 8th grade. He was now in the process of starting a career in acting, and he had a small part in the movie. I actually read about this beforehand, but I didn’t expect I would run into him at the after party. Ashton’s sister, Monette Moio was nowhere to be seen. I suppose the bitch wasn’t invited, hah. I remembered all of the pain she caused me during my 8th grade year at Pinecrest. I tried to act as cool and confident as I possibly could with Ashton, though I felt intimidated. He was one of the most popular kids at Pinecrest, and now he was becoming an actor, one of the most attractive careers a man can have. I assumed he had probably slept with countless beautiful girls. Damn him. I had a brief conversation with him before trying to leave his presence as fast as I could. I didn’t want him to find out how pathetic my life was.

While roaming around the after party, I bore witness to many successful young men who pranced in with their hot model girlfriends. Some of them were even actors my own age, stars of the movie. I had a particular burning hatred for the actor Alexander Ludwig, who I saw sitting arrogantly on a couch as people crowded around him in adoration. I hated everything about him; his golden blonde hair; his tall, muscular frame; his cocky, masculine face. That boy could get any girl he wanted. His life was completely opposite from my own. If only I could get a taste of how he lived for just one day… As I saw all of these successful young men with their beautiful dates, I became even more convinced about how important money and status was in attaining a desirable life of love and sex. It made me even more obsessed with my goal of becoming wealthy at a very young age. That was the only way to live life.

The whole premiere, from the red carpet to the film to the after party, was an extraordinary experience, and I will never forget it. I still felt very bitter that I wasn’t able to bring a girl with me as a date. The majority of men at the event had a date with them, and I felt so pathetic for not having a date. If only a girl at my collage had been attracted to me; I would have gladly brought her to the premiere as my date.

When I returned to Santa Barbara, I realized that I had absolutely no obligations. Since I had dropped all of my college classes, I had all the time in the world. I wanted to make use of that time as much as I could. Franticly, I tried to come up with ways to find some sort of idea to make millions of dollars. Some would say this was folly, but it has been done before! Many people have succeeded in coming up with an idea and making millions, or even billions, instantly. I was an extraordinary, magnificent person destined for great things. If other people could do it, why not me? It was my destiny, my whole purpose on this world.

For the next week or so, I spent time meditating in my room, trying to come up with ways to get rich. I could either invent something, start a great business idea, or go back to my original idea I had of writing an epic fantasy story that could be made into a movie. That reminded me of the reason why I gave up on that idea in the first place… the amount of time it would take to achieve success from such a prospect. I was so desperate and I needed to do something right there and then. It was a matter of life and death. If I couldn’t make it, then I had nothing to live for.

After a lot of deep thinking, I couldn’t come up with anything. Was I doomed to fail at everything? I began to feel hopeless, until I saw the current jackpot for the Megemillions Lottery. It was rising very high in the month of March. I had saved up a lot of money at the time, so I had enough to spare on lottery tickets, so long as I didn’t go under $5000 dollars, which I wanted to keep as my minimum amount of savings just in case of an emergency, or in case I would have to carry out the Day of Retribution. As it so happened, I had well over $6000 saved up at the time, from all of the allowance, Christmas money, and birthday money that my parents and grandmothers had been sending me. For the first time since moving to Santa Barbara, I began to take a serious interest in playing the Lottery again.

I believed that it was destiny for me to win the Megamillions Lottery, particularly this very jackpot. People win the lottery every single month, so why not me? I was meant to live a life of significance and extravagance. I was meant to win this jackpot. It was destiny. For the first few drawings I played, I spent $50 to $100 on tickets, but to my profound frustration I still didn’t win, and the jackpot kept rising. This only increased my enthusiasm. I started to picture a whole new, perfect life for myself after I won. I imagined buying a beautiful, opulent mansion with an extravagant view, and acquiring a collection of supercars which I would use specifically to attract beautiful girls into my life. I planned to go back to college once I had bolstered myself with all this wealth, and lord myself over all the other students there, finally fulfilling my dream of being the coolest and most popular kid at school. As I sat meditating in my room, I imagined the ecstasy I would feel as scores of beautiful girls look at me with admiration as I drive up to college in a Lamborghini. Such an experience would make up for everything. I had to win this jackpot.

As the jackpot reached over $200 Million, I spent more of my saved money on lottery tickets, but I still didn’t win. I knew that the more I spent on tickets, the higher chance I had of winning. I was so desperate to live a satisfying life that I spent $400 dollars on tickets when the jackpot hit $290 Million. When I failed to win that, I spent $500 dollars on tickets when it reached $363 million, and I still didn’t win it on that one… And then the jackpot reached a number that I never imagined it would… $656 Million. I was astounded and filled with a feverish enthusiasm of hope and desire. This was the highest lottery jackpot in history. I knew I was always destined for great things. This must be it! I was destined to be the winner of the highest lottery jackpot in existence. I knew right then and there that this jackpot was meant for me. Who else deserved such a victory? I had been through so much rejection, suffering, and injustice in my life, and this was to be my salvation. With my whole body filled with feverish hope, I spent $700 dollars on lottery tickets for this drawing. As I spent this money, I imagined all the amazing sex I would have with a beautiful model girlfriend I would have once I become a man of wealth.

After the ultimate and fateful drawing, I waited three days to check the result. I was too anxious about what I will see. The result would determine the fate of my whole life. For those three days, I meditated alone in my room, trying to convince myself that I was the winner. I held all of the tickets in

my hand, excitedly pondering over which one was the true winning ticket. There were many times during this period where I was about to check the result, but cancelled the webpage in the last second out of fear of what I might see. The prospect of finding out that I lost was devastating. On the fourth day, I decided to just go through with it. The result was already decided, and the amount of time it took for me to check it wouldn’t change anything. I had to see the truth. My heart was beating rapidly as I loaded up the webpage to the Megamillions website. What I saw crushed all of my hope completely. My whole body shivered with horrific agony. I didn’t win. Three people won that jackpot, and it was split between them. But none of those three people were me. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. I was certain I would be the winner. It was destiny… fate. But no, the world continued to give me no justice or salvation whatsoever.

I sank into one of the worst depressions of my life. It was Spring Break, and while all other young boys my age were going off to vacation with their attractive friends, I was feeling miserable and alone in my room because I failed to win the lottery jackpot that would enable me to rise above them ALL! I was so depressed that even when my mother came up to Santa Barbara with my sister and her friends for a short day trip, I refused to see them.

For the next month, I barely left my room. I was completely and utterly at the end of all hope. My life is over, I thought. Without that wealth, what was there to live for in the future? I still couldn’t believe I didn’t win. I kept thinking about the heavenly life I would be living if I had won. I was certain of my victory, right at the moment of the drawing. Instead, it turned to a crushing defeat, just like everything else in my life. Everything I had tried to do in the past, ever since childhood, had been a failure. It was very hard to feel good about myself anymore. I spent all of my time drifting aimlessly, doing nothing with my time except brooding over my fate. I didn’t want to think about anything. I could barely breathe from the stifling loneliness. All of my energy had been sapped out of me.

In the month of April, James Ellis officially ended the friendship between us. James hadn’t contacted me at all since the Lemelson’s Christmas party, and I felt extremely offended by this. For the first few months of 2012, I had been trying to contact him, demanding to know why he continued to act so cold and distant to me. I thought that after we spoke with each other at the Lemelson’s, things would get better between us. I was dead wrong.

I got hold of him on the phone in February, and he said a few words to me before quickly making an excuse to hang up. A month later I messaged him on Facebook to tell him how rude he was on the phone, and in April I received a response from him. He blatantly said he didn’t want to be friends anymore. He didn’t even deign to tell me why. After he said the fateful words, he refused to talk to me ever again. That was the last time I ever spoke to him.

It was the ultimate betrayal. I thought he was the one friend I had in the whole world who truly understood me, who truly understood my views and the reasons why I thought the way I did about the world. I confided everything to him, because I thought we were on the same page. To be betrayed in such a manner wounded me deeply, though I never admitted it to anyone.

On the day of the betrayal, I thought back on our entire friendship. James Ellis was my oldest friend. I remembered the first time I met him, as we kicked dust together as First Graders at Topanga Elementary school. I remembered all of the good times I spent at his various houses in the Palisades, trading Pokemon cards when we were little, our brief interest in skateboarding, playing World of Warcraft together as teenagers, all of our walks through the Palisades town center… He was a big part of my life. And now he was gone, faded away into memory.

I didn’t have any friends left anymore. No friends in the entire world. I didn’t want to see Philip and Addison after I cried in front of them at the Getty museum. I was completely and utterly alone, in the darkest pit of despair. And in that pit I withered in agony.

My deep depression lasted well into the summer. My life stayed stagnant and miserable, and my hatred towards everyone, especially women, for depriving me of a happy life only grew stronger. I questioned myself over and over about what was going to happen to me now. I didn’t want it to resort to having to exact ultimate vengeance. I didn’t want to die. I wanted something to live for.

There had to be a way for me to become wealthy. I continued to see it was the only way I would ever have a beautiful girlfriend and lose my virginity. My ultimate dream was to experience the pleasures of love and sex with girls once I become rich enough to be worthy of them, and then I would settle down with a beautiful girlfriend and have beautiful children with her, whom I would raise up to live a much better life than the one I’ve had to suffer through. That would be the most satisfying vengeance against all those young people who thought they were better than me. If I could show them that I lived such a life, my purpose on this world would be complete. To see the look on all of their faces once I’ve risen above them… I couldn’t imagine anything sweeter.

I so happened to come across a book called the Power of Your Subconscious Mind, by Joseph Murphy. This book would fill me with hope for the next few months. It was very similar to The Secret, the book I read over a year ago, and it had the same effect on me. It gave an even more in-depth view on the law of attraction. A year previously, I had given up on believing in such a concept, but when I read through this book thoroughly, I desperately convinced myself to give it a try. I wanted to believe the theory could work. I needed something to live for.

I began to visualize myself winning the lottery. I did this all throughout the month of June. After continuous analyzing and contemplation, I concluded that winning the lottery was the only way I could become wealthy at a young age, and thus it was the only way to enjoy the rest of my youth. If I didn’t have a satisfying youth, I would be bitter and miserable for the rest of my life, but of course that would never happen. If it came to that, then I would have to carry out the Day of Retribution.

Indeed, it was the only way I could attain any sort of wealth at my age. I had no talents, so it was impossible for me to become a professional actor, musician, or athlete; and those were usually the ways that young people acquired such money. I could invent something, or start a business just like Mark Zuckerberg did with Facebook, but the chances of me achieving such a thing were the same chances I had of winning the lottery anyway. I didn’t even have the skills of a computer programmer.

After reading this book, I wanted to believe that there was some sort of supernatural power that I could harness to change reality as I saw fit. For the months of June and July, I took frequent walks around Girsh Park in Goleta, dreaming and visualizing about winning the lottery. I affirmed that once the jackpot rose to over $100 million, I would buy a ticket and that ticket would be the winner. For all of the months of summer, people kept winning the lottery, and the jackpot kept resetting, but I was so desperate that I still clung to my faith that I would soon win.

On one of the days in July, when I was roaming around Girsh Park, a group of popular college kids arrived to play kickball in the fields. They all looked like typical fraternity jocks, tall and muscular. The kind of guys I’ve hated and envied all my life. With them came a flock of beautiful blonde girls, and they looked like they were having so much fun playing together. One of the girls did a handstand in the grass, and her sexy bare stomach showed as her shirt hung down. All of the girls were scantily clad. Rage boiled inside me as I watched those people who thought they were better than me enjoying their pleasurable little lives together. The rage was so intense that I couldn’t take it. I was insulted too much. I couldn’t leave them without getting some form of revenge, so I drove to the nearby K-mart, bought a super-soaker, filled it up with orange juice that I bought at the same store, and drove back to the park. They were still there, having the time of their lives, and I wanted to ruin it for them. I wanted to ruin their fun just like they ruined mine, as they would never accept me among them. I screamed at them

with rage as I sprayed them with my super soaker. When the boys started to yell and chase after me, I quickly got into my car and drove away. I was giddy with ecstatic, hate-fueled excitement. I wished I could spray boiling oil at the foul beasts. They deserved to die horrible, painful deaths just for the crime of enjoying a better life than me.

I drove to a secluded are of the parking lot at the Camino Real Marketplace nearby, my heart beating rapidly. After I had calmed down, I was overcome with the worry and fear that I would get in trouble for it. I wondered with panic if there were any cameras at the park that could have caught me in the act. The worry lasted for a few days, but eventually I became relieved that no trouble came out of it.

My mother and sister came up to Santa Barbara for my 21st Birthday. I didn’t want them to come up, but they came anyway. I suppose my mother felt sorry for me, that I would be alone on my 21st Birthday. And it’s true, I would have been alone. Isn’t that such a sad thing to contemplate? Being alone on my 21st Birthday. Most other men have huge drinking parties with their friends and girlfriends to mark their passing over the legal age limit to drink alcohol. I’ve read stories online of how exciting other men’s 21st birthdays are. I had absolutely no one to celebrate mine with. Having no friends, the only people who even wished me a happy birthday were my immediate family members.

When my mother and sister arrived in Santa Barbara, they wanted to meet up at a restaurant in State Street, but that prospect horrified me. State Street was filled with young couples walking around arm in arm as they went out on their blissful dates. I was already tortured at the fact that I was now a 21-year-old virgin. I didn’t want to torture myself anymore. I looked online for a quieter restaurant that we could meet at, a place where young couples most likely wouldn’t know about. I came across a secluded Japanese restaurant in Montecito named Sakana. I suggested this to mother, and since it was my birthday, she gave me the choice of where to eat.

I met the two of them outside the restaurant as they were waiting to be seated. I was in a sullen and depressed mood. Turning 21 as a kissless virgin was indeed a dark day. How pathetic it was, to be 21 and still a virgin while kids were having sex at the age of 14? The unfairness of life on this world is staggeringly horrific!

The restaurant Sakana turned out to be a very good choice. They served the most delicious Japanese food I had ever tasted in my life. They had so many creative dishes to try, and I ordered so many meals that the bill reached over $200. I eagerly devoured all of it, compensating for my sorrows with delectable food. My mother loved the restaurant as well. She had been to all of the best Japanese restaurants in L.A. with her various wealthy boyfriends, and she proclaimed that Sakana topped all of them. From this point onwards, it would become a tradition for us to eat here whenever my mother came up to visit me.

After dinner, we went to the Starbucks in Montecito, and I washed the exquisite meal down with a nice warm latte. I never explored much of Montecito before, and I found it to be a lovely, beautiful place. It reminded me of Calabasas, though much quieter and more conservative. I figured I would be spending a lot more time there in the future.
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Re: My Twisted World: The Story of Elliot Rodger, by Elliot

Postby admin » Fri Mar 13, 2015 10:13 pm

Part 4 of 6

21 Years Old

In August, I continued to build up my faith that I am destined to win the Megamillions jackpot. It is the future that was meant for me; the perfect, happy conclusion to the tragic life I’ve had to experience in the past. I couldn’t wait to rub my status as a wealthy man right in the faces of all the people who looked down on me, and all of the girls who thought of me as unworthy. I mused that once I become wealthy, I would finally be worthy enough to all of the beautiful girls.

I spent the whole month meditating in my room or roaming around the park, visualizing the final outcome of my victory. Through the power of the law of attraction, which I had studied so intensely with

the new book I found, I felt certain that I would become the winner. I looked forward to it with profound eagerness.

This was also the last month I had at the apartment unit I was staying in. I was set to transfer to a room in the main complex of Capri Apartments for the next school year. The conflict between Spencer and I had calmed down over the summer. He brought a few girls to his apartment, but they were all ugly, so I tried not to get jealous. I still hated him for the fact that he was able to witness how lonely and miserable my life was. I had spent an entire year in Isla Vista, Santa Barbara, and I had not had a single girl into my apartment. The pure rage and hatred I felt over that fact was enough, but to have someone like Spencer in my vicinity to judge me on it was salt on the wound. I made plans to track Spencer down once I become wealthy and arrogantly show off my new life to him. That would be the only way to get even. I wanted to show to Spencer, to show to the whole WORLD, that I had worth.

I didn’t think much about my imminent move to a new room, nor did I think much about who my new housemates would be. I firmly believed that I would win the lottery before then. I would then go back to my mother’s house, show her my ticket, and buy a mansion of my own to begin a new life of heavenly bliss. One could say that I was being delusional, but my desperation for happiness was so intense that I wanted to believe that this was true. I wanted to believe that I had the POWER to invoke this into my reality. I have craved power and significance all my life, and I will stop at nothing to find ways of attaining it.

Before I knew it, my lease at my current room ended, and on September 5th, I transferred to the new room. Spencer and I didn’t deign to say goodbye to each other, we despised each other that much. I knew I would see him again, when I track him down to show off my wealth that I firmly believed I would attain.

I found out that my new apartment in the main complex of Capri was the same exact apartment unit that I stayed in for the first month I had in Santa Barbara: apartment #7 on Seville Street. When I moved all of my belongings in, it was all empty. The manager told me that two housemates would be moving into the second bedroom within two weeks hence. I trusted that the manager had the sense to pair me with mature people, knowing my experiences with those two barbaric housemates I had to deal with a year previously.

By the time I moved in, the jackpot had finally risen over $100 million. This was the moment of truth. I had been waiting all summer for this to happen. Overcome with trepidation, I spent the next week in my new room, meditating and visualizing winning the lottery very soon. I could feel the excitement I would feel once I see the six numbers on my ticket match the numbers that would be drawn. I imagined myself jumping up and down with joy once my victory was confirmed.

On September 11th, the drawing for a jackpot worth $120 million commenced. I bought a five dollar ticket and proclaimed that this had to be mine. When I saw that the winner was from California, my heart beat like a drum. This was it. Fate was being decided right at that moment.

I didn’t win. I looked at my ticket over and over again, and then at the winning numbers. No match. It was just like what happened in March, except this was worse because I had built up anticipation for the entire summer. The winner was some guy from Riverside. He took MY money. What a waste. What an injustice. I was so certain that the universe would finally grant me salvation after a life of torture and suffering. I then looked at my small, cramped room and realized that my lonely, depressing life of virginity will continue on mercilessly.

That night, I threw a wild tantrum, screaming and crying for hours on end. I had the whole apartment to myself, so there was no one there to hear me. I raged at the entire world, thrashing at my bed with my wooden practice sword and slashing at the air with my pocket knife. I even downed an entire bottle

of wine, and got so drunk that I spilled my wine all over my laptop, permanently destroying it. I soaked my pillow with tears as I drifted off to sleep in my lonely bed.

On the next morning, I felt so drained and depressed. I then realized that I destroyed my laptop, so I called my mother, begging her to buy me a new one. I made up the story that the laptop randomly died and I had no control over it. After some persuading, I managed to make her agree to buy me a new one.

I quickly drove to Best Buy to look for a new laptop, and decided to choose a newer, updated version of the Asus laptop I had previously. As it turned out, the Best Buy in Santa Barbara didn’t have one in stock, so I had to drive all the way to Oxnard to pick one up. I paid the $1500 dollars for it, with the assurance that my mother will drive up to bring me a reimbursement in a few days.

I had to wait a few hours for them to prepare the laptop for me, and while I waited I decided to go to the shooting range in Oxnard. I had the knowledge, in the back of my mind, that the Day of Retribution was very possible now. Going to the shooting range while I waited for my laptop gave me the perfect opportunity to gain some initial training in shooting guns, which will be the main weapons I use as vengeance against my enemies when the Day of Retribution ultimately comes to pass. I walked into the range, rented a handgun from the ugly old redneck cashier, and started to practice shooting at paper targets. As I fired my first few rounds, I felt so sick to the stomach. I questioned my whole life, and I looked at the gun in front of me and asked myself "What am I doing here? How could things have led to this?" I couldn’t believe my life was actually turning out this way. There I was, practicing shooting with real guns because I had a plan to carry out a massacre. Why did things have to be this way, I silently questioned myself as I looked at the handgun I was holding in front of me. I paid my fee and left the range within minutes, feeling as if I was going to be sick. I spent the rest of the waiting period at the Coffee Bean in Oxnard, where I sat by myself feeling absolutely disgusted. My whole world was twisted.

Within the following days, I spent a lot of time at the park, watching the wind blow through the trees and the children playing in the fields. I questioned the very fabric of reality. Why did this all exist? I wondered. How did life come to be? What was the nature of reality? What was my place in all of it? There was no point to my life anymore. I was never going to lose my virginity. I was never going to get a girlfriend. Because girls are repulsed by me, I was never going to have children and pass on my genes. The only way that I could have been worthy enough to beautiful girls is if I become wealthy at a young age, and the faith I had in that happened had just been crushed. There was no hope left.

The life I could have had ceased to exist. I will never have sex, never have love, never have children. I will never be a creator, but I could be a destroyer. Life had been cruel to me. The human species had rejected me all my life, despite the fact that I am the ideal, magnificent gentleman. Life itself is twisted and disgusting, I mused. Humans are brutal animals. If I cannot thrive among them, then I will destroy them all. I didn’t want things to turn out this way. I wanted a happy, healthy life of love and sex. But if I’m unable to have such a life, then I will have no choice but to exact revenge on the society that denied it to me.

My new housemates moved into the other room of my apartment at the end of September. They didn’t know each other before they moved in, which was better for me because then they wouldn’t gang up on me. Not like they would do such a thing anyway, since my two new housemates were both timid, geeky types. One of them was a funny-looking curly haired boy named Chris Rugg, and the other was an Asian American named Jon. After the first few days of their stay, I felt content with these new housemates. They were quiet, respectful, and very friendly. And best of all, they never invited any friends over. I doubt they even had any friends. All they did was stay in their room and played video games all day. Of course, I had no desire to be friends with them, because they had absolutely nothing

to offer, but I knew I would have no problems with them in my apartment, and that was the best I could hope for.

On Halloween weekend, I made the wise decision to go home to my mother’s house. There was no way I was going to torture myself by staying alone in my room while the entire town of Isla Vista erupted in raucous debauchery. All of the tall, hunky jocks that girls love so much will be having all of the sex and all of the fun, while an unwanted outcast like myself would rot in loneliness. I imagined that some attractive guys who only visited Isla Vista for the Halloween event will be getting laid that weekend. They’d be getting sex from just one night in Isla Vista, while I’m still a virgin after living there for over a year. It was too unfair. I wanted to punish them all. I imagined how sweet it would be to slaughter all of those evil, slutty bitches who rejected me, along with the fraternity jocks they throw themselves at. To see them all running from me in fear as I kill them left and right, that would be the ultimate retribution. Only then would I have all the power. They treated me like an insignificant little mouse, but on the Day of Retribution, I would be a God to them. They will be the mice, and I will be the predator. I considered setting the date for the Day of Retribution to be the next Halloween of 2013. That would give me a year to prepare, but I soon dismissed it. If the Day of Retribution were to happen, it would have to be on a normal weekend. There would be too many cops walking around during an event like Halloween, and cops are the only ones who could hinder my plans.

I spent the time at mother’s house relaxing and trying to forget about Halloween. I drank some of my mother’s delicious wine until I was too buzzed to think about how much fun everyone else my age was having on that night.

I didn’t even bother to register for college classes that semester. There was no point. I believed that I would either fulfill my dream of becoming wealthy at a young age in order to be worthy enough to attract beautiful women, or exact my revenge upon the world and die in the process to escape punishment. There was no other path for me.

Of course, I "registered" for some classes, but only to keep up the pretense to my parents that I was still attending college. If they somehow found out that I had dropped my classes right after registering for them, they would have stopped all of their support for me, and my life would have to end right then and there. Thankfully, I was a good liar.

During the Autumn of 2012, I had all the time in the world to figure out how I was going to triumph against the society that was torturing me. I spent a lot of time at the library in Goleta, just a few miles away from Isla Vista. At the library, I read countless books on history, business, and philosophy, learning as much as I could. It was better than staying at home in my room. Besides, I didn’t want my housemates to find out that I wasn’t going to college. That would be embarrassing, and I always cared about what others thought about me, even my nerdy housemates.

I continued to visit the website of the Megamillions lottery. I still clung to the hope that it may rise above $100 million again and I would be the winner. So far, I saw that as my only way out of my horrible situation.

My situation was indeed horrible. I couldn’t leave the house without seeing a young couple walking around somewhere. Everywhere I went, I was all by myself, while other young people had friends and girlfriends. I was ashamed to show myself to the world. Even though I wore expensive designer clothes, what was the point if girl’s still weren’t attracted to me? No one respects a man who is unable to get a woman. A man wearing shorts and a T-shirt would be seen as superior to me if he walks into a store with a beautiful girl on his arm and I walk in all alone. A man having a beautiful girl by his side shows the world that he is worth something, because obviously that beautiful girl sees some sort of worth in him. If

a man is all alone, people get the impression that girls are repulsed by him, and therefore he is a worthless loser.

I saw winning the lottery as the only way out, and I became so frustrated when the Megamillions jackpot kept resetting. In the end of November, the jackpot was very close to getting high enough, but then it sank to the bottom once again. It was at this point that I learned about the Powerball lottery. The Powerball hadn’t yet come to California, so I knew nothing about it before. I looked at the website and saw that the jackpot was over $500 million!

California didn’t have a Powerball lottery, so in order to buy a ticket, I would have to drive all the way to Arizona.

Earlier in that day, as I drove through Isla Vista, I saw this one particular young couple that stood out from the rest only because the girl looked absolutely perfect. She was tall, blonde, and sexy. She would have towered over me in height, and her boyfriend of course towered over her. They were both wearing beach gear, and the girl was in her bikini, showing off to everyone her sensual, erection-causing body. Her blonde hair was wet from swimming in the ocean, and it only made her look more arousing. The two of them were holding hands, and it was clear that they were in love. I saw the boyfriend place his hand on the girl’s ass, and when he did this the girl looked at him and smiled with delight. That guy was in heaven. I can only imagine how amazing it must be to have sex with a girl like that. I had to witness everything I wanted but could not have. It made me feel dizzy with anguish.

I immediately thought about that couple, and how impossible it was for me to have the same experience as that guy. Impossible, as I was at that point. But it would be possible for me to get a tall, blonde, sexy girlfriend if I was a multi-millionaire! Oh yes, it would be very possible. Becoming a multi-millionaire is the ONLY way I could have such an experience, and winning the lottery was the ONLY way I could become a multi-millionaire at my age. As I stared at the Powerball jackpot that was over $500 million, I knew that I HAD to win it.

It was midnight when I had this revelation, and the drawing was on the following day. The only way I could get a ticket before the drawing was if I left for Arizona right then and there. And so that is exactly what I did. I quickly looked up the best route on Google Maps, packed some food into my backpack, and took off.

The sun rose as I crossed the long stretch of desert in between Palm Springs and the border of Arizona. It was one of the most beautiful things I had ever seen. When I saw the sun creeping up before me in the horizon, igniting the clouds with its orange glow, I proclaimed that sunrise as the sunrise of my destiny. I was riding towards my destiny, to obtain the record-breaking Powerball ticket of $500 million!

As I drove, I thought about every event in my life that led up to that journey. I considered that journey as the ultimate culmination of the tragic suffering and sexual starvation I had to go through for so long. That Powerball jackpot was meant for me. Once I won it, I’d be able to have my beautiful blonde girlfriend, I’d be able to show the world that girls consider me worthy, I’d be able to show the world how superior I am. And of course, I would be able to live above everyone who has wronged me, and rub it all in their faces as a form of gratifying vengeance. That was my ultimate purpose in life, my reason for living.

I didn’t win. It was almost the same scenario that I suffered through in March, except this one was twice as devastating. When I finally arrived home from the long trip, I immediately went to bed after not sleeping for so long. It was very difficult to stay awake on the road, but I managed to do it due to the severe importance of the journey. The Powerball drawing occurred while I slept, and my last thought before drifting off to sleep was that when I woke up, I would be a multi-millionaire, and my life would be saved. I slept for a very long time, and when I awakened it was already the morning after the drawing. I was overcome with anxiety. I was so confident and certain that I would win before the drawing

occurred, but once that point in time had passed, I feared the result. I feared that I might not have won. I spent the next three days in my room, trying to garner enough courage to check the winning numbers that would determine my fate. After realizing how much time I was wasting, I visited the Powerball website to see the result. At the very first second of viewing the webpage, I caught a brief glimpse of it before closing it out of fear and panic. In that brief glimpse, I saw that there were three winning tickets, and one of them was in Arizona! My heart started beating rapidly. That had to be me! I thought, with hope and excitement welling up inside my whole body.

There was an Arizona winner, and I had bought my ticket in Arizona. After that long, emotional journey; driving toward the sunrise in the middle of the desert, fighting off sleep just to get there in time, visualizing my whole future before me, with a beautiful blonde girlfriend and the children I would have with her… After all that, who else could the winner be but me? It was meant for me. It was fate, destiny. I took out my tickets, of which I had purchased fifty, and sifted through them to find the one that matched the winning numbers. I felt dizzy and ecstatic as I did it, feeling so certain that my victory will be confirmed. When I reached the end of my stack of tickets, I didn’t find any that matched. For the first few moments, I couldn’t even believe what was happening. I looked through all of my tickets again and again and again, and still, nothing. I didn’t win.

I sat very quiet and still in my desk chair for a long time, all of the emotion swept out of me. I didn’t react with rage or anguish. I just sat there, cold and dead, mentally trying to contemplate what I had just done. I had driven all the way to Arizona just to buy lottery tickets, because I was so desperate for a happy life in which girls would be attracted to me; I was so certain I would win, building up all that hope, only to have it shattered right before me at just that moment.

I then drove out of my apartment and made my way to the Girsh Park. I had to be somewhere peaceful. Along the way, I saw couples strolling along the streets of Isla Vista, walking arm in arm; I saw groups of good looking young people walking together, laughing and enjoying each other’s company. I felt completely dead inside, and torment racked my entire body, as I realized that I now had no chance to rise above them. I lost.

When I got to the park I sat in my car for hours, crying and crying and crying. I wailed with agony. My tears streamed down my face and stained my collar. I couldn’t take it anymore. Feeling the need to talk to someone, I called the only people I had in my life: My parents. I called them both, first my mother and then my father, and I told them both how much I was suffering from my loneliness, and my utter realization that I had no hope of ever having a happy life. I told them that they must be ashamed of me, that I was a 21 year old virgin who is unable to get a girlfriend or making any friends whatsoever. I was not the son any parent would want. My tantrum to my parents on the phone deeply disturbed them, and they arranged for me to see my psychiatrist, Dr. Charles Sophy, when I return home for the winter break.

As the phrase that I had coined goes: If I cannot join them, I will rise above them; and if I cannot rise above them, I will destroy them. I’ve been trying to join and be accepted among the beautiful, popular people all my life, but it was to no avail. They have always treated me like scum. Girls have always deemed me unworthy of their love and sex. I tried to overthrow them by gaining wealth at a young age, from trying to come up with invention ideas, to contemplating writing an epic story, and finally to trying to win the lottery. At this point, the prospect of overthrowing them seemed hopeless. The final solution to triumph over my enemies was to destroy them, to carry out my Day of Retribution, to exact my ultimate and devastating vengeance against all of the popular young people who never accepted me, and against all women for rejecting me and starving me of love and sex.

At this point, it fully dawned on me that the possibility of having to resort to exacting this Retribution was more real than ever before. Without the prospect of becoming wealthy at a young age, I had nothing to live for now. I was going to be a virgin outcast forever. I realized that I had to start planning

and preparing for the Day of Retribution, even though I hadn’t yet had any idea of what day that would be.

My first act of preparation was the purchase my first handgun. I did this quickly and hastily, at a local gun shop called Goleta Gun and Supply. I had already done some research on handguns, and I decided to purchase the Glock 34 semiautomatic pistol, an efficient and highly accurate weapon. I signed all of the papers and was told that my pickup day was in mid-December. That fell in nicely, because that was when I was planning on staying in Santa Barbara till. After I picked up the handgun, I brought it back to my room and felt a new sense of power. I was now armed. Who’s the alpha male now, bitches? I thought to myself, regarding all of the girls who’ve looked down on me in the past. I quickly admired my new weapon before locking it up in my safe and preparing to go back to my hometown for the winter break.

I didn’t attend the Lemelson’s Christmas party that year, nor would I ever again. The only person I ever really hung out with at those parties was James, and James was no longer my friend. It would have been extremely awkward to be there while James is there, knowing that the two of us, who used to be old friends since first grade, would be avoiding each other. It would be a foul and bitter experience, and I had already gone through enough anguish in the last few months.

A few days before Christmas, I took off with my mother and sister for another vacation in England. She had called me a month previously to tell me about it. At first, I didn’t want to go, knowing that I will feel miserable about going on a vacation without a girlfriend to experience it with me, along with the shame of having to once again appear to my relatives in a fashion that I was unsatisfied with. A year had passed since the last trip, and I was in exactly the same position in life. I had nothing for my grandmothers to be proud of. No girlfriend, no future prospects, no life at all to talk about.

The one thing that persuaded me to go was the fact that my mother planned to have us travel on Virgin Atlantic Upper Class, the highest form of travel the airline offers. I hadn’t traveled First Class for a long time, and I just couldn’t refuse such an offer. I have always had a penchant for luxury, opulence, and prestige; and traveling on Virgin Atlantic Upper Class would give me that experience, if only for a short time. After all of the anguish I had been through, I figured I needed a sense of respite by going on this luxurious vacation. For just this one brief period of my life, since I speculated that my life could very well be ending soon, I decided to try my best to forget about everything and indulge myself in every way I could on this trip to England.

Before we took off, we spent some time at the exclusive Upper Class lounge at the LAX airport. There was a buffet with all sorts of goodies for me to pick at, and I had my fill of smoked salmon and champagne. While there, I had a discussion with my mother about whether I had any more hope in my life, and what I could possibly do to get what I want in life.

As holders of First Class tickets, we skipped to the front of the line as we boarded the plane, and I took great satisfaction as I passed by all of the other people who flew economy, giving all of the younger passengers a cocky little smirk whenever they looked at me. Once I had settled in my big, luxurious bed-seat in the First Class cabin, I had even more champagne, followed by an exquisite dinner of steak and potatoes, and some red wine to wash it all down. I ordered glass after glass of red wine during the whole ride, and became quite drunk as I watched a few movies, one of them being the new Ice Age movie which I found quite funny.

When we arrived, we were chauffeured in a limousine to our hotel in Colchester. This time, we stayed at the Holiday Inn, which was very similar to the hotel on the last trip. Our relatives, even Ah Mah who rarely left the house in her old age, came to our hotel to greet us. We then went to their house, where Aunt Min had cooked a nice dinner for us. I felt so amazed to be back in England again. It had been a whole year since the last trip, but I felt as if nothing had happened. Nothing had improved in my life,

that’s for sure. I was in the exact same position as I had been on the year before, and a year before that… and so on. I was now a 21-year-old virgin, still suffering the same injustices of the world. I tried not to think about it, for the sake of enjoying my trip, but the angst was too overwhelming.

Our hotel served the same type of exquisite breakfast buffet as the hotel we stayed in last year, and once again I took delight in indulging in the endless amounts of pork sausages, croissants, ham, bacon, and every other delectable treat at the buffet; every single morning. For this vacation, I mostly stayed at the hotel, relaxing and trying to establish a sense of peace and serenity.

When my family went on a tour through London, I refused to go. There was no point. I would just be miserable from having to be alone while other men walked around there with girlfriends. I proclaimed to them all that I will never go for a night out in London unless I had a beautiful girlfriend on my arm. While they were in London, I stayed at the relative’s house with my grandma Ah Mah. Ah Mah cooked me a delicious dinner, just like she did when I was a little child living in the Old Rectory in England. I drank a whole bottle of wine that night, and I was quite drunk by the time they came back from London.

We did manage to visit grandma Jinx during this trip. Before we left back to America, uncle Andrew drove us to Smarden, Kent to visit her at her house. I hadn’t been to grandma Jinx’s house since I was ten years old, and it looked exactly the same. Grandma Jinx asked me a lot of questions about my life, as she always did. I had to stiffly pretend that everything was going well, and it pained me that I had nothing going for me to boast about. I hated being the shameful grandson. I bet cousin George was living a better life than me. I’m sure he had a lot to say that made grandma Jinx proud.

All in all, it was a relaxing, peaceful, and luxurious trip. I didn’t regret going. From the way my life was going, I needed something like that to fill in as one my last few enjoyments. On the way home, we spent time at the Upper Class lounge at Heathrow Airport, and this lounge was even more impressive than the one in LAX. They had all sorts of luxury food, and a whole bar full of every drink one could imagine. On the way home, I had multiple glasses of red wine again before drifting off to a nice, drunken sleep. As we were about to land in L.A., our plane hovered around the city for a while, waiting for the traffic on the runway to clear up below. While the plane hovered, I filmed a few videos of the entire city of L.A. It was quite an experience, to look down upon such a city. Everything looked so small, and the people and cars looked like little insects. I briefly fantasized about being a god as I looked down upon them all. I imagined having the power to destroy everything below with destructive, supernatural powers. It made for a fine scenario, worthy of being discussed with James Ellis, if only he were still my friend.

On New Year’s Eve, I stayed at my mother’s house, feeling lonely and miserable. I believe father and Soumaya went to Antje Twinn’s house again. There was no way I would go there again after the incident that occurred the year before. I found it quite hilarious that everything during this holiday was playing out just the same way as it played out in the previous year; the trip to England, father and Soumaya attending the same party at the Twinn’s house, my same miserable, lonely, virgin status. Indeed, my life was moving in vicious circle of torment with no way out. The only thing that got me through it all was my hope that there was a way out, and that hope had been shattered too many times. I couldn’t live like this anymore. I knew that if things continue to be the same, I would have to carry out my ultimate Retribution and die in the process. I didn’t want to die. I fear death, but death is better than living such a miserable, insignificant life.

I remained in my hometown for a couple of weeks, and then I went back to Santa Barbara, the place of beauty and romance that I’ve had to suffer in lonely hell. I only signed up for online classes for the Spring semester, but that was only to placate my parents. I didn’t see the point in even bothering with college anymore. Having to walk through SBCC with all of those beautiful girls strutting around in their revealing shorts, showing off their sexy legs… It is torture, because I know that they would all reject me.

There are so many beautiful girls in Santa Barbara, but not one of them ever wanted to be my girlfriend. Life would have been so perfect there if only girls were attracted to me.

For the month of January 2013, I stayed in my room all the time, assessing my situation. I brooded and contemplated about everything. I could hear all of those happy young people partying and enjoying themselves as the new semester came to a start. I mused that I should be out there, experiencing a happy, healthy college life with a group of friends, meeting up with girls and sleeping with them, just like all other guys did in college. I thought about how it was almost two years since I had moved to Santa Barbara, and that only made my rage and frustration grow. As I listened to all of those young people having so much fun right outside my window, my hatred of them all for not accepting me only festered and boiled inside me, filling me with immense pain.

At one point, I looked out my window and saw couples strolling around the street, on their way to some party. They probably slept with each other that night. The sight made me feel so inferior, like a little mouse. I felt like I was at the bottom of the food chain. I couldn’t fathom how I had to endure such a painful life. On that same night, I looked at the Powerball again, and saw that the jackpot had risen to over $100 million. This prompted me to drive to Arizona again, in another desperate attempt to become instantly wealthy so that I could attract beautiful girls and live the life I want. After all of the rejection and mistreatment I’ve experienced at the hands of women, I knew that becoming wealthy was the only way I could become worthy of them, and so my obsession with becoming wealthy at a young age came back in full force for the first few months of 2013.

By the month of April, I had driven to Arizona three more times, making a total of four trips to Arizona in my lifetime, just to buy lottery tickets out of intense desperation, believing it to be my only hope of attaining the life I desire, the life I know I’m worthy of. I kept dreaming of the life I would have once I won; the beautiful blonde girlfriend, the luxurious mansion with a magnificent view, all of the exotic cars I would drive to impress girls. It gave me hope. It gave me something to live for.

That hope was shattered after each attempt. None of the tickets I bought on those trips fulfilled my dreams. The reason I kept going, even after I didn’t win, was because I truly believed I was supposed to win. I wanted to believe it because I wanted something to live for. I needed to have hope. I knew that if I lost all of my hope, I would have nothing to live for but revenge. Any chance of having a happy life would be doomed.

At the end of March, when I checked my last set of tickets that I had bought from my last trip to Arizona, and saw that I didn’t win, any hope I had of becoming wealthy at a young age was finally and indefinitely shattered. It fully dawned on me that the life I had envisioned for myself would never come to pass. The children I would have in the future with a beautiful blonde girlfriend ceased to exist, as if they were murdered. There won’t be any beautiful blonde girlfriend for me now. No girl would be my girlfriend unless I had great wealth… I learned that from my life of being rejected. I was doomed to a life of lonely virginity.

In April, the Powerball lottery was introduced in the state of California, so if I ever wanted to play it again I would no longer have to drive to Arizona. However, I was so shaken by not winning in the last few months that I gave up on it for a while, but eventually I would have episodes of little surges of hope in which I’d buy a few tickets, just to have something to hope for as I endure the last few months of my torturous life. All of those little surges of hope, of course, would be shattered as well.

During this Spring of 2013, I began to seriously think about planning the Day of Retribution. My next step towards planning for it was to buy my second handgun, a Sig Sauer P226. It is of a much higher quality than the Glock, and a lot more efficient. In turn, it was also a lot more expensive. My Glock 34 was around $700 dollars, whereas my new Sig Sauer P226 was $1100.

These prices were of no concern to me, however. When I first moved to Santa Barbara and experienced all of those horrible revelations about the nature of humanity, I knew that something like the Day of Retribution could very well happen if the world continued to mistreat me. I began to carefully save up all of the money that my parent’s and grandmothers were sending me. It was an ample amount to live on, leaving me with a lot left over to build up in my bank account. When I hit the $5000 dollar mark, which was fairly soon after my move to Santa Barbara, I decided never to go under it, deeming that $5000 was enough to buy all of the supplies and equipment I would need if I had to do something like this. The Day of Retribution had always been in the back of my mind as a final solution if all else failed in my life, ever since I had moved to Santa Barbara. As it so happened, all else did indeed fail. Women continued to reject me and mistreat me, and I remained an unwanted virgin.
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Re: My Twisted World: The Story of Elliot Rodger, by Elliot

Postby admin » Fri Mar 13, 2015 10:13 pm

Part 5 of 6

For the last months of Spring, I went home a lot because the loneliness in Santa Barbara was too stifling. Going home to visit my parents was always an emotional refuge for me. During these trips home, I spent a lot of time with my little brother Jazz. My father let me drive his Mercedes SUV while I was in town, and I often took Jazz on outings with it. On these outings, I began to really bond with the boy. We went to places like Barnes & Noble, the playground at the park, and local cafés where I treated him to coffee and pastries. The parks I took him to were Serrania Park and the Woodland Hills recreation center. I like to watch him play in the playground at these parks, because those were the exact same playgrounds I played in when I was his age… When my life as actually happy. As I watched him, I dreamed about that happy life I used to live, before my whole world turned to darkness.

I realized how much different my brother Jazz was from me at that age. While I was shy, short, and physically weak; Jazz was tall for his age and very social. He had no problem going up to other boys at the playground and making instant friends. I began to form a bitter envy towards him, though I hid it really well. My little brother had all the potential to grow up to be a popular kid and live the life I was never able to live. I cursed the world for granting my little brother Jazz so many more advantages than me. I tried not to let this ruin my relationship with him. My little brother really looked up to me. He was one of the few people who treated me with adoration, and that made me feel at least a small twinge of self-worth. It was quite surprising that he respected me so much, since I had nothing in my life to boast about to him. He even asked me once if I had ever had a girlfriend, and I angrily told him that the matter was none of his concern. I didn’t want to admit to him that girl’s thought I was a loser. If he found out about that, he would respect me less. In order to boost his high opinion of me, I often sugarcoated all of my early accomplishments, such as telling him that I was an expert skateboarder and video game player.

People having a high opinion of me is what I’ve always wanted in life. It has always been of the utmost importance. This is why my life has been so miserable, because no one has ever had a high opinion of me. My little brother Jazz was the only one who had such an opinion, and that is why I enjoyed spending so much time with him, despite my envy of his social advantages.

During one of my frequent visits home in late Spring, I reunited with my old friends Philip and Addison. I hadn’t seen them since the night I emotionally cried in front of them at the Getty museum in the beginning of 2012. This reunion was sparked by the political and philosophic conversations I had been having with Addison over Facebook.

I decided to meet them at Philip’s house, where we would make plans for an outing around Malibu and L.A. I brought my father’s Mercedes SUV to use as our mode of transportation. First, we went to Point Dume in Malibu, where Addison used to live. Going there brought back bitter memories of my previous conflict with Addison. The three of us hiked to the very tip of Point Dume, where there was a cliff that overlooked the beach.

After Malibu, we decided to have dinner at the BOA Steakhouse in Santa Monica. Driving through Santa Monica was an extremely infuriating experience, just like it had always been. There were so many

good looking young couples walking about, enjoying the pretty night life that the attractive city had to offer. Groups of young people walked about in their little cliques. It reminded me to State Street in Santa Barbara, as well as Isla Vista. As I watched all of those obnoxious boys walking around with their beautiful blonde girlfriends, I wanted to run them all over with my father’s Mercedes SUV. I fantasized about how delightful that would be. To literally crush their lives to a pulp, just like they had crushed mine. I tried as hard as I could to hide my envy-fueled rage from Philip and Addison. Philip was easy to fool, but Addison could tell how enraged I was. Addison knew me all too well.

In Santa Barbara, I spent almost all of my time in my room, brooding. I began building on all of my philosophical views and theories about the world. I had to question why things were the way they were. The world is so twisted, and I wanted answers.

I hated all of those obnoxious, boisterous men who were able to enjoy pleasurable sex lives with beautiful girls, but I hated the girl’s even more, because they were the ones who chose those men instead of me. It was their choice. They are the ones who deprived me of love and sex.

My hatred and rage towards all women festered inside me like a plague. Their very existence is the cause of all of my torture, pain and suffering throughout my life. My life turned into a living hell after I started desiring them when I hit puberty. I desire them intensely, but I could never have them. I could never have the experience of holding hands with a beautiful girl and walking on a moonlit beach, I could never embrace a girlfriend and feel her warmth and love, I could never have passionate sex with a girl and drift off to sleep with her sexy body beside me. Women deemed me unworthy of having them, and so they deprived me of an enjoyable youth, while giving their love and sex to other boys. In all of those years I suffered a life of sexual starvation and unfulfilled desires. I will never get those years back. My life has been wasted, all because women hate me so much.

All I had ever wanted was to love women, but their behavior has only earned my hatred. I want to have sex with them, and make them feel good, but they would be disgusted at the prospect. They have no sexual attraction towards me. It is such an injustice, and I vehemently questioned why things had to be this way. Why do women behave like vicious, stupid, cruel animals who take delight in my suffering and starvation? Why do they have a perverted sexual attraction for the most brutish of men instead of gentlemen of intelligence?

I concluded that women are flawed. There is something mentally wrong with the way their brains are wired, as if they haven’t evolved from animal-like thinking. They are incapable of reason or thinking rationally. They are like animals, completely controlled by their primal, depraved emotions and impulses. That is why they are attracted to barbaric, wild, beast-like men. They are beasts themselves. Beasts should not be able to have any rights in a civilized society. If their wickedness is not contained, the whole of humanity will be held back from advancement to a more civilized state. Women should not have the right to choose who to mate with. That choice should be made for them by civilized men of intelligence. If women had the freedom to choose which men to mate with, like they do today, they would breed with stupid, degenerate men, which would only produce stupid, degenerate offspring. This in turn would hinder the advancement of humanity. Not only hinder it, but devolve humanity completely. Women are like a plague that must be quarantined. When I came to this brilliant, perfect revelation, I felt like everything was now clear to me, in a bitter, twisted way. I am one of the few people on this world who has the intelligence to see this. I am like a god, and my purpose is to exact ultimate Retribution on all of the impurities I see in the world.

The Spring of 2013 was also the time when I came across the website PUAHate.com. It is a forum full of men who are starved of sex, just like me. Many of them have their own theories of what women are attracted to, and many of them share my hatred of women, though unlike me they would be too cowardly to act on it. Reading the posts on that website only confirmed many of the theories I had

about how wicked and degenerate women really are. Most of the people on that website have extremely stupid opinions that I found very frustrating, but I found a few to be quite insightful.

The website PUAHate is very depressing. It shows just how bleak and cruel the world is due of the evilness of women. I tried to show it to my parents, to give them some sort dose of reality as to why I am so miserable. They never understood why I am so miserable. They have always had the delusion that everything is going well for me, especially my father. When I sent the link of PUAHate.com to my parents, none of them even bothered to look at the posts on there.

After a Spring season spent in absolute despair while other young people lived healthy lives of sexual pleasure, summer arrived. Summer is even worse than Spring, especially in Santa Barbara. Flocks of hot, young girls go out in their shorts and bikini’s, further tantalizing my sex-starved body every time I look at them. Knowing that they gleefully show off their desirable forms, yet they would never give me a chance to be their boyfriend only increased my already boiling hatred towards all women. I could not leave my apartment without seeing at least a few of them. The only place I could go where I could be at peace was the Lake Park in Goleta. I spent a lot of time there, trying to establish a sense peace and serenity whenever my loneliness in Isla Vista became too unbearable. As I looked at all of the beautiful trees around me, and the towering mountains in the background, I wondered how a world so beautiful can be such a dark and cruel place. Indeed, a beautiful environment is the darkest hell if you have to experience it all alone, while other men get to enjoy the company of women.

I had nothing left to live for but revenge. Women must be punished for their crimes of rejecting such a magnificent gentleman as myself. All of those popular boys must be punished for enjoying heavenly lives and having sex with all the girls while I had to suffer in lonely virginity. It was already June, and I had been living in Santa Barbara for two years. Two whole years. I lived in a college town full of young, attractive students who partied and had sex all the time, and I didn’t get to experience any of it. No one invited me to any parties, and in all the times I went out by myself to Isla Vista, none of the beautiful blonde girls showed any interest in having sex with me. Not one girl. These are crimes than cannot go unpunished. The more I thought about all these injustices that were dealt to me, the more eager I became for revenge. It’s all I had left. I didn’t want to die, but I knew that I had to kill myself after I exacted my revenge to avoid getting captured and imprisoned.

For a while, I had been deciding on whether I would exact my Retribution in Isla Vista or at Santa Barbara City College. In both places, I had suffered greatly at the hands of everyone there. I have seen attractive young couples walking around in both places, and those were my targets. I wanted to kill as many attractive young couples as I possibly could.

After a lot of thinking, I came to the conclusion that the Day of Retribution will take place in Isla Vista. On weekend nights, the streets of Isla Vista are always flooded with young couples and good-looking popular kids walking to their parties. What better place is there to exact my Retribution on my enemies? Every time I walked around Isla Vista, trying to meet girls or fit in with popular kids, I’ve only been treated with disdain, as if I’m an inferior mouse. On the Day of Retribution, the tables will indeed turn, I mused to myself. I will be a god, and they will all be animals that I can slaughter. They are animals… They behave like animals, and I will slaughter them like the animals they are.

It came to a point where I had to set a date for the Day of Retribution. I originally considered doing it on the Halloween of 2013. That is when the entire town erupts in raucous partying. There would literally be thousands of people crowded together who I could kill with ease, and the goal was to kill everyone in Isla Vista, to utterly destroy that wretched town. But then, after seeing footage of previous Halloween events on Youtube, I saw that there were too many cops walking around. It would be too risky. One gunshot from a cop will end everything. The Day of Retribution would have to be on a normal party weekend, so I set it for some time during November of 2013.

This goal would give me five months to plan and prepare. Five more months of life, but then again I wouldn’t even call it life. The existence I’ve had on this world during the last eight years is anything but life. A feeling of overwhelming dizziness and anxiety swept over me. I was actually going to die. I couldn’t believe it. Then I realized that my life was already over anyway. I was never going to lose my virginity; I was never going to experience love and sex; I was never going to have children. This final act of Retribution is the only thing I could do. It was very hard to come to terms with this fact. I felt very trapped and lost.

I hated the feeling of being trapped and lost. I wanted a way out, but I saw none. I had already spent two years in Santa Barbara, and I was still a virgin. There was no way I could ever attract a girl without becoming extremely wealthy, and all of my prospects of becoming wealthy at a young age seemed impossible now.

In the beginning of summer, I went on a few walks around Isla Vista during daylight hours. While on these walks, I saw so many attractive young people walking around in their little groups, having the time of their lives. Some of the guys in those groups weren’t even good looking, while I am good looking. I couldn’t understand how they could be accepted, while I wasn’t. I furiously questioned why I haven’t been able to have such experiences after living in Isla Vista for two years. It was unfathomable.

I wanted answers. I wanted to know why it had to come to this. If only one pretty girl had shown some form of attraction to me, the Day of Retribution would never happen. I’d never even consider it. The Day of Retribution is mainly my war against women for rejecting me and depriving me of sex and love. If only one girl had given me a chance, tried to get to know me, let me take her out on a date… None of this would have to happen. It was so hard to accept that things would have to resort to me having to perform this act of Retribution I was planning.

While I visited home, my parents, along with my psychiatrist Dr. Charles Sophy, arranged for a counsellor to meet me frequently and help me out with my life. His name was Gavin Linderman, a clean-cut twenty five-year-old. He had a similar role to Tony, my old counsellor from the regional center back when I was nineteen, except Gavin was much younger and acted more like a friend who could take me out to places. Every time I went back to visit my parents, I would meet up with Gavin once. We usually met up at a restaurant somewhere, or went on a hike. I told him about all of my problems with girls, and all of the hardships I’ve had to face in Santa Barbara. Being familiar with Isla Vista himself, since he spent a great deal of time there when he was younger, he confirmed to me that yes, the girls in Isla Vista prefer tall, muscular, rowdy jock-type men.

Gavin was the only young person I really interacted with at the time, besides the occasional meetings with Philip and Addison. He was a good-looking guy, with a chiseled jaw and bright blonde hair. Whenever we went out to a restaurant, or anywhere that had girls, I got extremely jealous when I saw that girls were checking him out instead of me. This one girl at a restaurant in Santa Monica was staring at him the whole time we were sitting there. No girl had ever done that to me. This only made me more aware that girls did not consider me physically attractive. My hatred of the female gender could grow no stronger. It was too much.

On Father’s Day, I went with my family to the Four Season’s Resort in Westlake Village. The Four Season’s held their annual Father’s Day buffet. The place was very beautiful and opulent, and there was delicious food of all kinds to choose from. I always looked forward to events like this. Since I had no access to sex, food was my only vice. As with all buffets that I had attended, I stuffed myself tremendously, trying to sample every single thing they offered. There was pork sausage, bacon, smoked salmon, sushi, filet mignon, roast chicken, roast potatoes… And I took pleasure in eating as much as I could. I filled my plate three times and devoured all of them. As I enjoyed my exquisite meal, I took in

the scenery all around me; the perfectly built architecture of the building, the pretty flowers in the gardens, the luxurious furniture and décor, the cascading fountains. It truly made me feel good, a welcome respite from all of my suffering in Santa Barbara. Respites like these make me more aware that there are so many good and beautiful things in this world to enjoy. If my status in life were better, I would think this world to be a magnificent place, and I could truly enjoy life. If I was satisfied with my circumstances in life, I would be able to enjoy this beautiful world to its fullest. I can’t be satisfied with life if I’m a virgin and girls are repulsed by me. It’s such a tragedy.

I realized that I didn’t want to give up on life in this world. I wanted to live a happy life, a life in which I could have a beautiful girlfriend and experience this amazing world with her. I decided that since my plans for the Day of Retribution wouldn’t be taking place until November, I could use the time I had during the summer to give life another chance; one last chance before the end, one last ditch effort to attain happiness.

In late June, my mother moved out of the Summit Town Homes and bought a house in West Hills. It was the first time my mother bought a house, as she had only rented in the past. The house had recently undergone a renovation, so it was practically brand new. The house had a swimming pool and was located in a nice enough area, though I would have still preferred it if my mother had gotten married to a wealthy man and moved into a mansion. I still continued to pester her to do this, and she still stubbornly refused. I will always resent my mother for refusing to do this. If not for her sake, she should have done it for mine. Joining a family of great wealth would have truly saved my life. I would have a high enough status to attract beautiful girlfriends and live above all of my enemies. All of my horrific troubles would have been eased instantly. It is very selfish of my mother to not consider this.

With the help of Gavin, my parents arranged for me to have a couple of social skills counsellors to work with me in Santa Barbara. They would have a similar role that Gavin did, providing someone to take me out and help me practice socializing. They would be like hired friends. Of course, I did need something like this, and I should have signed up for it when I first moved to Santa Barbara. It was a little too late at this point, I feared, but I went along with it anyway. I was so lonely in Santa Barbara, and in my loneliness I always craved having someone to talk to.

The first counsellor was a very easy going man named Karlin, who was the same age as Gavin. On my first night of meeting Karlin, he took me out to Isla Vista, but nothing came out of it. We just ended up walking around until his time was up. During our walk, I asked him if he had ever had sex with girls in Isla Vista, and he told me he had sex with four girls! I was very jealous. Karlin was half Hawaiian and half Mexican, and he wasn’t that good looking. How on earth could he have managed to sleep with four girls in Isla Vista, while I had been there for two years and had none? It seemed absolutely preposterous. I didn’t want to see him at all after I found this out.

The second counsellor that was assigned to help me was a girl named Sasha. She was only a year older than me. Sasha was the first young girl I had interacted with in the entire time I stayed in Santa Barbara, and she was only hired to talk to me. How pathetic is that? At first, I didn’t want to have a female counsellor, but when I was introduced to her, I saw that she was quite a pretty looking blonde. I couldn’t refuse the opportunity to hang out with a blonde girl, despite the fact that she was a hired friend. It was the only time in my life that I had the experience of spending time with a girl my age, and even though it was all fake, I really enjoyed it. I felt so much better about life after each time we met. But then, I thought about how unfair it was that I could only get a fake little taste of such an experience, while other men get to do such a thing every single day with their girlfriends. Eventually, Sasha had to move out of Santa Barbara, and I decided not to have any more female counsellors. It has the same effect as hiring a prostitute, I imagine. It temporarily feels good for the moment, but afterward it makes one feel like a pathetic loser for having to hire a girl when other men could get the experience for free.

In July, I spent a lot of time exercising in my room in a final effort to appear as attractive as possible to girls. I proposed that after two weeks of rigorous exercising, I will try my hardest to go out in Isla Vista and do everything I can to meet a girl and lose my virginity. It had been a long time since I went out to Isla Vista by myself, but I knew that I had to do it. I had nothing to lose, and my whole life was on the line. Before would set the definite decision to plan the Day of Retribution, I wanted to give women and humanity one more chance to accept me and give me a chance to have a pleasurable youth. I resolved that if I go out to Isla Vista for this final time, and I still end up going back to my room as a lonely virgin, I will have no choice but to plan my Retribution.

I even attended college at SBCC again. I signed up for a summer sociology class and attended it for a week, before dropping it out of the familiar frustration of girls talking to other boys instead of me.

This last ditch effort of desperation to once again try to live an enjoyable college life in Isla Vista came to an ultimate and devastating culmination on Saturday night, July 20th, just a few days before my 22nd Birthday.

It was the day that I decided to go out in Isla Vista in an attempt to lose my virginity before I turned 22. That was the only thing that could have saved me. I was giving the female gender one last chance to provide me with the pleasures I deserved from them.

I was too nervous to go out there sober, so I bought a bottle of vodka and took a few shots to garner enough courage to walk out at such an hour. I had taken one too many, for by the time I reached Del Playa Street, my head was clouded with drunkenness. At the start, it benefited me greatly. I saw lots of good looking popular kids socializing in groups all over the place, and if I wasn’t drunk it would have intimidated me too much. I was so drunk that I walked right into a wild house party that was taking place on Del Playa. They had a DJ playing annoying hip hop music that all the young people liked these days, and there was a ping pong table set up where lots of popular kids were playing "beer pong", a crude drinking game.

There were about one hundred people at that party, and everyone was socializing with a group of friends except for me. I walked around in my drunken confidence for a few moments, helped myself to the beer they had, and tried to act like a normal party-goer. I soon became frustrated that no one was paying any attention to me, particularly the girls. I saw girls talking to other guys who looked like obnoxious slobs, but none of them showed any interest in me. As my frustration grew, so did my anger. I came across this Asian guy who was talking to a white girl. The sight of that filled me with rage. I always felt as if white girls thought less of me because I was half-Asian, but then I see this white girl at the party talking to a full-blooded Asian. I never had that kind of attention from a white girl! And white girls are the only girls I’m attracted to, especially the blondes. How could an ugly Asian attract the attention of a white girl, while a beautiful Eurasian like myself never had any attention from them? I thought with rage. I glared at them for a bit, and then decided I had been insulted enough. I angrily walked toward them and bumped the Asian guy aside, trying to act cocky and arrogant to both the boy and the girl. My drunken state got the better of me, and I almost fell over to the floor after a few minutes of this. They said something along the lines that I was very drunk and that I needed to get some water, so I angrily left them and went out to the front yard, where the main partying happened. Rage fumed inside me as I realized that I just walked away from that confrontation, so I rushed back into the house and spitefully insulted the Asian before walking outside again.

I stood awkwardly in the front yard for a bit, realizing how pathetic I looked all by myself when everyone was partying around me. To calm down, I climbed up onto a wooden ledge that bordered the street and plunged down on one of the chairs there. Isla Vista was at its wildest state at that time, and I saw lots of guys walking around with hot blonde girls on their arm. It fueled me with rage, as it always had. I should be one of those guys, but no blonde girls gave me that chance. I looked down at all of

them, and in my drunken carelessness, extended my arm out and pretended to shoot them all, laughing giddily as I did it. Eventually, some partiers climbed up onto the ledge. They were all obnoxious, rowdy boys whom I’ve always despised. A couple of pretty girls came up and talked to them, but not to me. They all started socializing right next to me, and none of the girls paid any attention to me. I rose from my chair and tried to act arrogant and cocky toward them, throwing insults at everyone. They only laughed at me and started insulting me back. That was the last straw, I had taken enough insults that night. A dark, hate-fueled rage overcame my entire being, and I tried to push as many of them as I could from the 10-foot ledge. My main target was the girls. I wanted to punish them for talking to the obnoxious boys instead of me. It was one of the most foolish and rash things I ever did, and I almost risked everything in doing it, but I was so drunk with rage that I didn’t care. I failed to push any of them from the ledge, and the boys started to push me, which resulted in me being the one to fall onto the street. When I landed, I felt a snap in my ankle, followed by a stinging pain. I slowly got up and found that I couldn’t even walk. I had to stumble, and stumble I did. I tried to get away from there as fast as I could.

As I stumbled a few yards down Del Playa with my shattered leg, I realized that someone had stolen my Gucci sunglasses that my mother had given me. I loved those sunglasses, and had to get them back. I vehemently turned around and staggered back towards the party. At that point, I was so drunk that I forgot where the party was, and ended up walking onto the front yard of the house next to it, demanding to know who took my sunglasses. The people in this house must have been friends with the ones I previously fought with, for they greeted me with vicious hostility. They called me names like "faggot" and "pussy", typical things those types of scumbags would say. A whole group of the obnoxious brutes came up and dragged me onto their driveway, pushing and hitting me. I wanted to fight and kill them all. I managed to throw one punch toward the main attacker, but that only caused them to beat me even more. I fell to the ground where they started kicking me and punching me in the face. Eventually, some other people from the street broke up the fight. I managed to have the strength to stand up and stagger away.

It was the first time in my life that I had been truly beaten up physically to the point where my face was bruised up. I had suffered a lot of bullying in my life, but most of it wasn’t physical. I had never been beaten and humiliated that badly. Everyone in Isla Vista saw what happened, and it was truly horrific.

The worst part of this whole ordeal was not getting beaten up, oh no. It was the fact that no one showed any concern. There was only one group who helped me to the end of Del Playa, but after that they abandoned me. Not one girl offered to help me as I stumbled home with a broken leg, beaten and bloody. If girls had been attracted to me, they would have offered to walk me to my room and take care of me. They would have even offered to sleep with me to make me feel better. But no, not one girl showed an ounce of concern for me. They didn’t care. No one cared about me. I was all alone.

As I got to my room, I was so traumatized that I called the only people in the world I knew, my parents and my sister. Yes, I even called my sister, someone I never got along with. I sulked for a long time, and then I reached up to my neck to feel my special golden necklace, and I felt nothing there. In the midst of the fight, one of those horrible punks had snatched off my special golden necklace that my grandma Ah Mah had given me! That necklace was one of the most special items I had, and now one of those evil, wretched thugs will be selling it to buy drugs. I broke down in anguish and wailed in agony, crying and crying until I passed out in my bed, all alone.

When I woke up the next morning, my leg was in absolute agony. It was purple and swollen, and I could not even stumble anymore. I had to crawl. Being fully sober, all of my anxiety came back. It became very clear to me what had happened. I felt enraged by everything, but also fearful that I might get in trouble. I did try to push girls off of a ledge and threatened to kill all of those people, which could

implicate me. I had to concoct a fairly altered story to explain to the police, who would inevitably have to interview me once I got to the hospital and reported my injury.

My father drove up to Santa Barbara to bring me to the hospital. Two police did interview me, and I told them that those boys deliberately pushed me off of the ledge after I acted "cocky" towards them. I didn’t mention the girls at all. I expressed to the police of my wishes that they should all be punished for this. The police then went to interview them, and they had their own version of the story. Since there was no actual evidence, the whole case was shortly dismissed.

The physician at the hospital put me in a temporary cast and gave me crutches. On top of all other things in the world that made me feel inferior, I was now a cripple. I felt so defeated and broken. To my horror, the physician said that I would have to be in crutches for the next six weeks, and I might have to get surgery.

The leg that broke was my left leg, so I was still able to drive. Shortly after the incident, I drove home to spend the rest of the summer recovering. It was a depressing drive. I had never felt so defeated and wronged in my life. I had actually gone out to a party in Isla Vista, hoping that I would be walking back to my room in triumph with a beautiful girl on my arm, but instead I stumbled back to my room with a shattered leg and shattered hopes.

My 22nd Birthday was a miserable experience. I sat around at my mother’s house, staring at my broken leg, feeling so pathetic for being a cripple, as well as a 22-year-old virgin. My mother bought me a new golden necklace to replace the one that was stolen from me, as she knew how heartbroken I was about losing it.
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Re: My Twisted World: The Story of Elliot Rodger, by Elliot

Postby admin » Fri Mar 13, 2015 10:15 pm

Part 6 of 6

22 Years Old

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The highly unjust experience of being beaten and humiliated in front of everyone in Isla Vista, and their subsequent lack of concern for my well-being, was the last and final straw. I actually gave them all one last chance to accept me, to give me a reason not to hate them, and they devastatingly blew it back in my face. I gave the world too many chances. It was time for Retribution.

I went into surgery in the beginning of August. After visiting the local orthopedist, he recommended that I have my broken ankle surgically screwed in place instead of waiting for it to heal by itself. I decided to go through with it, just so I could be out of crutches sooner. My mother drove me to the hospital early in the morning, and I was wrought with fear. I had never been through such a thing in my life. They put me to sleep with anesthesia, and when I woke up my leg burned with pain, though the pain medication they injected in me afterward helped ease this. A new cast was placed on my leg. I didn’t even want to think about what it looked like underneath. I was told that they screwed in a titanium plate to hold the fractured bone in place, and it required six screws. I rested in the hospital for a few hours before I was allowed to go home, under the instructions that I would have to keep my leg raised at all times for the next week.

Shortly after my surgery, my mother and sister went on a vacation to Hawaii. They had been planning this for a long time, and of course I refused to go with them when they initially asked me months before. My mother didn’t want me to stay in her house all alone in the crippled state that I was in. Taking care of the house in such a condition would be too difficult, and there would be no one there to provide immediate assistance in case of an emergency. I asked father if I could stay at his house, but Soumaya was having some of her relatives staying for the summer, so she refused to let me stay there because it would be "too much for her to handle", despite the fact that father’s house had six bedrooms and plenty of space for me to occupy. Father, of course, gave in to Soumaya’s rules as he always had. My respect for him was already so low that it couldn’t get any lower because of this.

Due to this little difficulty, my mother booked me a hotel room at Extended Stay America in Woodland Hills. I was content with this. The hotel was comfortable enough, and my mother stocked me with a lot of food for the week that I would be there. It provided a nice atmosphere to recover from the horrific experiences I had just recently endured. The only thing I disliked about this hotel was that it was located right across the street from Taft High School, so whenever I looked out the window I saw a place that had caused me great suffering in the distant past. I thought about the bullying I received at Taft, and in a way my experience there was quite similar to what had just happened to me on that fateful night in Isla Vista. I was bullied by thugs, and the girls adored the bullies instead of me. Indeed, a very similar scenario.

Only now, I was ready and capable of fighting back against the cruelty of women. Back when I was a weak and timid boy at Taft High School, I was powerless and frightened, having to resort to hiding in a life of playing video games. All of the suffering, loneliness, rejection, and humiliation I had to experience since then had strengthened me. The hatred that festered inside me in all of those years leading up to this point had empowered me in a dark, twisted way. I was now armed with weapons, possessed great intelligence and philosophical insight, with the willpower to exact the most catastrophic act of vengeance the world will ever see.

I spent the next week in that hotel room brooding about the injustices of life and my place in the world. It fully dawned on me that I would now have to bring about the Day of Retribution. There was no other hope. I mused that once I descend upon Isla Vista, armed with my weapons and my burning hatred, I would definitely make sure to target the people who lived in that house I was attacked in. The plan was to destroy the entirety of Isla Vista, and kill every single person in it, or at least kill as many popular young people I could before the police arrive and I’d have to kill myself.

I felt so shocked and overwhelmed upon realizing that it was definitely going to resort to this. I was going to die soon, and that in itself was hard to accept. I didn’t want to die, but I would have no choice. Vengeance is the only path; all other paths had been closed shut. I thought it to be such a tragedy that I was actually going to wage war against women and all of humanity. But then again, women’s rejection of me was a declaration of war. They insulted me by deeming me inferior of their love and sex. They hate me, and I will return that hatred one-thousand fold. I will inflict suffering on everyone in Isla Vista, just like they have made me suffer. In the past, I have always been at their mercy, and I was given none. On the Day of Retribution, everyone will be at my mercy, and in turn I will show them no mercy at all. My Retribution will be so devastating that it will shake the very foundations of the world.

My broken leg was a setback, of course. Even with surgery, I’d have to be in crutches for six weeks, and even after that it would take a while to be able to walk normally again. I figured I won’t be walking normally until October. There was no way I’d be well enough to prepare for the Day of Retribution by November. There was too little time. I made a new plan to set the ultimate and final date for the Day of Retribution to be at the end of the Spring of 2014. This would give me plenty of time to prepare. The Day of Retribution was now my whole reason for living. It’s all I have to live for. This act of deadly vengeance against the people who have wronged me is my sole purpose on this world. I needed as much time as possible in order to plan it efficiently.

Postponing the Day of Retribution also gave me a few more months of life. Perhaps I would also use that time to look for a way out. I have always been itching for a way out of this, and even with the recent events that had occurred, a small part of me still clung to that inkling of hope.

Gavin came to visit me at the hotel, and he was welcome company. It was really getting lonely there, though it was definitely better than being lonely in Isla Vista. The two of us sat down for three hours in my hotel room to have an important conversation. I explained to him my finely altered version of everything that happened on that night in Isla Vista. He didn’t seem surprised. When he was my age, he

used to go up to Isla Vista quite often. He told me that the kind of brutal, rowdy atmosphere I’ve witnessed was part of the culture there. The boisterous, wild frat boys get all of the beautiful girls, and everyone is looking for a fight, like the vicious animals they are. He said it was a truth I had to accept, advising me to move out of there. I couldn’t accept this truth, because it was unjust. I couldn’t let such evil exist, and I will not run away from it by moving out of there. I will either thrive there, or destroy the place utterly. Since I failed to thrive there, I had no choice but to plan my Retribution.

When my mother came back from Hawaii, I went to stay at her house for the next month, until my leg healed enough for me to lose the crutches. I didn’t want to go back to Santa Barbara while still in crutches, it would be too humiliating, and I had felt humiliated enough there already.

For the first week after surgery, my leg suffered intense searing pain, though that searing pain was nothing compared to the hatred that burned in my heart. During that time, I could barely leave my bed, because whenever I did, the blood rushed to my leg and triggered the pain. For the entire time that I was in the hotel, I stayed in my bed like a vegetable. After that initial week, the pain subsided, and I was able to move about on my crutches with greater ease. I often did laps around my mother’s backyard as a way of venting my anger, sometimes swinging my crutches around as if they were swords, slashing at all of the enemies who had wronged me in life.

The month that I spent at mother’s house was very relaxing, and I tried my best to calm myself down as time passed. I spent a lot of time watching movies, reading books, introspecting, and contemplating about life. I stayed in the house all the time, for I despised having to go out and be seen as a cripple. I already felt insecure enough about myself for being a lonely virgin. Being seen as a cripple was too much salt on the wound.

Gavin came to visit me again, and this time we sat in my mother’s dining room to have yet another important conversation about my life and where I was going. He tried to advise me again to move out of Isla Vista, but I refused to hear it. I moved to Isla Vista with the goal of losing my virginity and attaining the life I desire. If I’m unable to have it, I will destroy it. I will never run away in defeat.

My parents arranged for us to have a conference with my Psychiatrist, Dr. Charles Sophy. I set out with my mother to meet father outside Dr. Sophy’s house in Beverly Hills, and when we got there we were surprised to see that Soumaya had come for the conference too. This presented a conflict, because Soumaya and my mother had recently had an argument due to Soumaya refusing to let me stay at father’s house during my mother’s trip to Hawaii. For more than half of the conversation, the doctor spent time resolving this petty conflict instead of addressing the troubles that I was going through. When we finally did get to my situation, Dr. Sophy ended up giving me the same useless advice that every other psychiatrist, psychologist, and counsellor had given me in the past. I don’t know why my parents wasted money on therapy, as it will never help me in my struggle against such a cruel and unjust world. The doctor ended up dismissing it by prescribing me a controversial medication, Risperidone. After researching this medication, I found that it was the absolute wrong thing for me to take. I refused to take it, and I never saw Dr. Sophy again after that.

Towards the end of the month, my mother invited Maddy and Mo Humpreys over for dinner. Mother had recently been reconnecting with her old friend Mo. Maddy had just graduated from USC, a university renowned for its abundance of spoiled, bratty students who partied all the time, very similar to UCSB. I often call USC the "University of Spoiled Cunts", just like I call UCSB the "University of California’s Spoiled Brats". Brilliant, fitting nicknames! Before Maddy came, I stalked her Facebook for a bit, and I saw that she was the exact image of everything I hated in women. She was a popular, spoiled USC girl who partied with her hot, beautiful blonde-haired clique of friends. All of them looked like absolute cunts, and my hatred for them all grew from each picture I saw on her profile. They were the kind of beautiful, popular people who lived pleasurable lives and would look down on me as inferior scum, never accepting me as one of them. They were my enemies. They represented everything that

was wrong with this world. Maddy was my first friend in America. As a child, I played with her as an equal. Now she was my enemy. I would take great delight in torturing and flaying her and every single one of her spoiled, obnoxious evil friends. When she and her mother came to eat dinner with us, I had to keep calm as I hobbled out of my room on my crutches to greet them.

That relaxing month at mother’s was like the comfort before the storm. Once I go back to Santa Barbara, fully recovered, the final dark chapter of my life will commence. I dreaded what will come of it.

After six weeks of hobbling about on crutches whenever I had to go somewhere, I visited my orthopedist, asking if it was finally time for me to walk without them. After examining my leg, he agreed that I can proceed to a "walking cast". This would enable me to limp around, without crutches, though I would have to use a cane. Though uncomfortable, it was much, much better than having to go about on those damnable crutches. When I got home, I delightedly practiced moving around with this new setup.

Before long, my mother said I was now well enough to return to Santa Barbara. My new college classes were starting soon anyway, though she didn’t know that I had only signed up for online classes for the Autumn semester out of fear that I might have to start college while still crippled. She had grown tired of having to deal with me, as she always was in the past. I spent a few more days at mother’s with my walking cast and cane before she made me go back to Santa Barbara, telling me I can return to visit in two weeks.

I made my ominous drive back to Santa Barbara, and as I drove I thought about all of the injustices I had to face in the last two years I had spent there. Injustices that had never been set right. Now was the time to set them right. Now was the time for Retribution.

When I got back to my apartment, I saw that my housemates Chris and Jon had moved out. A pity, as they were the most pleasant housemates I could have hoped for. I feared what my new ones would be like, and I was told they would be coming in a few weeks. I had the place to myself for that period, which suited me well. I refused to leave my room at all until I was able to at least lose my walking cast. I spent the time doing the same thing I did at mother’s house. I watched a lot of movies, and sat around contemplating my future.

Upon my visit home, I went to see my orthopedist for one last time, and he told me I can finally walk without any cast around my leg, though I would need the cane for a few more weeks. I was content with this, as I didn’t mind the cane that much. It had a peculiar elegance about it.

On that same weekend, I met up with Philip and Addison. We had been planning to meet during the summer, but I had to postpone it because of my terrible injury. I took them out in my father’s Mercedes SUV, and we went on another one of our adventures around Los Angeles. First, we went to an exquisite Japanese restaurant on Sunset Boulevard in West Hollywood. I was thankful I didn’t see any young couples my age there, most of them were older than us. Afterwards, we went to Griffith Park Observatory, under Philip’s suggestion. Going there brought back memories, both good and bad. It was ever a tradition for the three of us to go there, as we had been so many times. The place provided an expansive view of the city of L.A. At night it was absolutely exquisite. The Griffith Park Observatory was truly a wondrous place to admire the beauty of the world… but the whole experience was ruined, of course, by the sight of so many young couples kissing there, right under the stars. Those boys must have been in heaven, to experience such a place with their beautiful girlfriends.

Seeing all of those young couples at Griffith Park filled me with rage for the rest of the night. It reminded me of the injustices I have to face in life, and my war against it all. When I drove down the hill from the Observatory, I saw more young couples walking around, and I had the desire to run them over with the Mercedes as a sweet act of revenge. I already planned to use the Mercedes SUV as one of my

weapons on the Day of Retribution, since Isla Vista on weekend nights was always filled with my enemies walking right in the middle of the road. They would be easy targets.

After the disastrous experience at Griffith Park, we decided to take a late night trip all the way to Palos Verdes, just to admire the scenery. I had never been down there, and Addison told me it was a peaceful, quiet, and exquisite place that provided an extraordinary view. When we arrived at a beach park in Palos Verdes that overlooked the ocean, Philip had fallen asleep, so it was just me and Addison who went out to walk around. I took an instant liking to the place, and explored it as much as I could, even though I was still limping with my cane. As the two of us looked up at the stars, we had a few insightful conversations. Addison told me more about his experiences among the popular kids of Malibu, in which I still envied him greatly for. I told him about all of my newfound philosophical views regarding women, and how I believe they are mentally flawed and need to be contained. He didn’t show any hint of how he felt about this. Addison told me that I was a person of high intelligence, and that I shouldn’t waste it by doing something "rash". I believe he had a suspicion that I was indeed planning on massacring my enemies and then killing myself. Of course he would have that suspicion… In a way I think he knew me better than anyone else. I am indeed an intelligent person, but the cruelty of this world gives me no choice but to exact my Retribution. I tactfully told Addison that I had no intentions of "doing anything stupid". That was my last conversation with him. It was also the last time I ever saw Philip and Addison.

I also went to meet with my father’s friend Dale Launer on that weekend. Dale Launer is a successful Hollywood screenwriter and producer who owns a nice house in the Pacific Palisades. Dale and my father have been friends for many years. When I was a child, father sometimes took me to dinner parties at his house. I hadn’t seen Dale since I was a child, but within the last few months I began to have email conversations with him after he found out I was having trouble with girls. He wanted to help me overcome my troubles because he is a so-called expert with women. He even showed me pictures of all of the gorgeous women he has dated in his life, and there were a lot of them. This man truly lived.

A few men who are successful with women have offered me help and advice about this in the past, but nothing ever came of it. I suppose they want to help because it would be a boost to their already big egos, and also because they feel sorry for me. People should feel sorry for me. My life is so pathetic, and I hate the world for forcing me to suffer it. I feel sorry for myself.

In truth, there is nothing men like Dale can really do to help me attract girls and lose my virginity. They can’t mind-control girls to be attracted to me. It’s all girls’ fault for not having any sexual attraction towards me. My brief friendship with Dale would, however, spark a few more interesting email conversations where I confide to him about how cruel I think women are by nature. He would only be amused by this. Of course he would be amused. Women were never cruel to him. They gave him sex and love all his life.



I had an argument with Soumaya while I was visiting father’s house. It started when she began to boast that my brother Jazz was recently signed by an agent to act in T.V. commercials. She said that by the time he is my age, he will be a successful actor. I talked about how Jazz was already so socially savvy for his age, and how I’ve always envied him for it. She told me he will never have any problems with girls, and will lose his virginity while he’s young. I had to sit there and listen to the bitch tell me that my little brother will grow up enjoying the life I’ve always craved for, but missed out on. It is very unfair how some boys are able to live such pleasurable lives while I never had any taste of it, and now it has been confirmed to me that my little brother will become one of them. He will become a popular kid who gets all the girls. Girls will love him. He will become one of my enemies.

That was the day that I decided I would have to kill him on the Day of Retribution. I will not allow the boy to surpass me at everything, to live the life I’ve always wanted. It’s not fair that he has the chance to

have a pleasurable life while I’ve been denied it. It will be a hard thing to do, because I had really bonded with my little brother in the last year, and he respected and looked up to me. But I would have to do it. If I can’t live a pleasurable life, then neither will he! I will not let him put my legacy to shame.

In order to kill Jazz, I would have to kill Soumaya too, but that will be easy. All I would need to do is think about all of the hurtful things she had said to me in that past as I plunge my knife into her neck. But what if father is in the house to stop me? Would I have to kill him too? That would be too much. I remember, when I was a child, I had dreams about my father dying, and I woke up crying to my mother, in which she would comfort me and tell me that it was just a dream. How could my life have resorted to the point where I am the one to kill my own father? I felt sick to my stomach.

I concluded that I would have to set the Day of Retribution during a time when my father is out of the country, on one of his business trips. It would be too risky to try to kill him. I might hesitate at the last second.

When I thought about all of this, I truly did feel sick. I felt a shiver run through me. My whole world had become so twisted and wrong. I didn’t want it to come to this. I desperately wanted a way out.

To make me feel more confident, my mother provided me with a better car to drive in Santa Barbara, a BMW 3 series Coupe. I had always wanted this, since I cared a lot about my appearance. I had been asking my parents for a more upper-class car ever since I found out that there was a car hierarchy, and that some students at my college drove better cars than others. Now I was one of the students with a better, high-class car.

Having a nicer car than most other students my age did indeed make me feel more confident. Mother should have bought this car for me when I first moved to Santa Barbara. It made me feel better about going out more while I was there. This, coupled with my newly healed leg, gave me one last twinge of hope as the remaining months of 2013 passed.

For those last remaining months, my extreme desperation and desire for happiness took hold of me, knowing full well how my life will turn out if I don’t get what I want. I went out every single day, just to put myself out there in the world in order to see what opportunities arise. I explored the entirety of Santa Barbara and Montecito, and it fully dawned on me what a beautiful environment I had been living in. However, a beautiful environment is the darkest hell if I have to experience it all alone. That fact that I had wasted the last two years in such a beautiful place filled me with anguish. I thought about what an enjoyable life I could have had, if only girls were attracted to me.

Two new housemates moved into my apartment for the Autumn semester. They were two foreign Asian students who attended UCSB. These were the biggest nerds I had ever seen, and they were both very ugly with annoying voices. My last two housemates, Chris and Jon, were nerds as well, but at least they were friendly and pleasant. These two new ones were utterly repulsive, and one of them had a very rebellious demeanor about him. He went out of his way to start arguments with me whenever I raised the issue of the noise he made. Hell, even living with Spencer was more pleasant than these two idiots. I knew that when the Day of Retribution came, I would have to kill my housemates to get them out of the way. If they were pleasant to live with, I would regret having to kill them, but due to their behavior I now had no regrets about such a prospect. In fact, I’d even enjoy stabbing them both to death while they slept.

I was assigned a new counsellor to meet with me every week in Santa Barbara, since Karlin and Sasha no longer worked for that company. My new counsellor was named Robert, a UCSB student who is one year older than me. I had coffee with him a few times, and we went volunteering together twice, in an effort to get me out of my room and doing activities. Nothing conducive to attaining the life I desire

came out of these meetings, but the social interaction he provided was pleasant, and it gave me an outlet to express myself.

I visited my mother’s house quite often in the Autumn. To my extreme rage, I discovered that my sister now had a boyfriend, and that she had lost her virginity. She had casually "dated" boys in the past, but never to the serious extent that she did with this one. This one was a half White, half Mexican named Samuel, and I immediately took an intense disliking to him when I was first introduced to him. He seemed like the typical obnoxious slob that most young girls are sexually attracted to. Georgia invited him to my mother’s house all the time, and it angered me to watch him lurking about, eating my mother’s food and drinks, and making use of my mother’s house. He was freeloading off my mother, and she didn’t even realize it.

I eventually grew to hate him after I heard him having sex with my sister. I arrived at the house one day, my mother being at work, and heard the sounds of Samuel plunging his penis into my sister’s vagina through her closed room door, along with my sister’s moans. I stood there and listened to it all. So my sister, who was four years younger than me, managed to lose her virginity before I did. It reminded me of how pathetic I was, that at the age of twenty-two, I was still a virgin. I hated her boyfriend as well. My sister said that he’s been with other girls before her, and I’m sure he lost his virginity at a much younger age. It is such an injustice. The slob doesn’t even have a car, and he is able to get girlfriends, while I drive a BMW and get no attention from any girls whatsoever.

My sister even showed me a picture of one of his ex-girlfriends, a pretty brunette white girl. My hatred towards him only intensified after that. I refused to speak to him whenever he came over, and I constantly pestered my mother to ban him from the house, but she refused to heed my demands. Even worse, she constantly talked about him admiringly. He reminded me of Leo Bubenheim, a typical obnoxious boy who has been able to experience a great sex life from a young age. An enemy had now infiltrated the household of my mother, the one place in the whole world where I’ve always sought refuge from injustice. Things were getting too out of hand.

Grandma Jinx came to visit father’s house in late October. When she last visited, she resolved an intense conflict between me, my father, and Soumaya. In a way, this recent visit paralleled the last one, since I was having conflicts with Soumaya this time as well, just not to the same extreme.

I went over to father’s house to see my grandmother. She suggested that I take her out for a coffee, and I knew just the place. I took her to Barnes & Noble at the Calabasas Commons, a place of great significance in my past. While there, I showed her all of the spots I had spent time at years ago. Afterward, before I said my goodbye, a feeling of sadness swept over me, as I knew that was most likely the final farewell.

On Halloween, I found it hard to believe how fast time had gone by. I remember how on the last Halloween I had considered exacting my Retribution on this very day. Time indeed will inevitably pass, and soon enough my fate will have to be decided. I went home to my mother’s on Halloween, of course. I wouldn’t be able to stand being alone in my Isla Vista room while all of that partying happened around me. It was the exact same scenario as last year. In the afternoon, I saw a new psychologist, Dr. Randy Gold. In truth, he was my old psychologist whom I visited briefly when I was only thirteen. That was back when my life was just starting to fall into this dark path, and now I was still in the same position, except that the dark path was soon going to reach its climactic end. After my therapy session, I got drunk in my mother’s hot tub, trying not to think about all of the fun and sex that other young people were having that night.

Nothing came out of my desperate outings in Santa Barbara during the last months of 2013. Girls still didn’t show any interest in me. I drove to SBCC a lot, even though I was only signed up for online classes. While there, I saw other boys who had inferior cars driving around with hot girls in their passenger seats. I have a BMW and never had any hot girl in my passenger seat. Not once. It only made me fume with rage. Santa Barbara was such a beautiful town, but I could go nowhere without being insulted by my enemies. The mere sight of them enjoying their happy lives was an insult to me, because I deserve it more than them.

One place of refuge I often went to was the Coffee Bean in Montecito. It was located in a beautiful little town center, and most of the couples there were older than me. It provided a quiet and peaceful place for me to contemplate and brood.

On the eve of my last day in Santa Barbara, before I went home for the winter break, I went to the Sandpiper Golf Course in Goleta to watch the sunset. It was my usual sunset spot, and on that evening the shape of the clouds on the horizon made it exceptionally beautiful. I basked in its radiance as I stood there, wondering with despair how a world so beautiful could be so cruel. And then, one final insult came along, as if the world was taking one last spiteful lash at me. A young couple came and stood near me, making out with each other as they watched the very same sunset. There were lots of other people there as well, for it was quite a unique sunset. All of them must have had thoughts of admiration towards the couple, and thoughts of contempt towards me because I was all alone and unwanted. I have lived such an unnatural life, devoid of love, sex, and pleasure. Watching sunsets was one of the few joys I had left, and now that too was taken from me. How can I enjoy a sunset anymore, knowing that other men get to enjoy them with their beautiful girlfriends at their side? There was no more life for me to live.

During the winter break, I was able to experience one final respite before 2014 came, the year my sad story will at last come to its tragic end. My mother and sister planned another trip to England at the end of December, this time for two weeks. For those two weeks, I stayed at my mother’s house by myself, taking advantage of the time to have one last period of relaxation and peace.

They decided to take my sister’s boyfriend Samuel to England with them, and upon hearing this I became very infuriated. Samuel was my enemy, someone who has enjoyed a happy life of sex while I have starved for years. And now my own mother was paying for his ticket to England, something he doesn’t deserve. I felt so betrayed by my mother because of this. She should have been more considerate for how I would feel. I am her son, and she should be on my side. But then again, my mother is a woman, and women are all mentally ill. There was no way she could possibly understand my point of view.

I attended my father’s Christmas party during this winter break. At the party, I ran into Karl Champley. I hadn’t seen him since he hired me to work on his house years ago, and it was nice to speak with him again. I felt very bitter and ashamed, having to appear to all of my father’s friends as the same awkward, unwanted outcast I had always been. Some of them asked me about my life in Santa Barbara, and a few even asked if I had a girlfriend. I had to suffer having to tell them that no, I don’t have a girlfriend because girls are not attracted to me. I wished I could tell them all that I had an amazing life there, with a girlfriend who would be with me at that very party. I wish I could have made them all proud of me, but of course, I had nothing about me to be proud of. The only solace I had for that shame was the knowledge that I will soon rectify everything on the Day of Retribution.

My mother told me that I can have one bottle of wine from her pantry while she was away, and on New Year’s Eve I chose to open the best one in the lot, a fine vintage that I slowly sipped throughout the night as I stayed at my mother’s house, all alone. I knew that other young popular people were having the time of their lives that night, partying the night away. As I sipped my wine alone, in the moonlit

darkness of my mother’s backyard, I assured myself that soon I will have my revenge on all of those young popular people. Soon…

After a restless sleep, I arose from my bed early on New Year’s Day, 2014. This was the final year. This was the year in which everything will come to a close. In this year, I will finally have my closure, my vengeance, my retribution! My whole tragic life had led to this, and I was ready.

I had been rejected, insulted, humiliated, cast out, bullied, starved, tortured, and ridiculed for far too long. Humanity is a cruel and brutal species, and the only thing I could do to even the score was to return that cruelty one-thousand fold. Women’s rejection of me is a declaration of war, and if it’s war they want, then war they shall have. It will be a war that will result in their complete and utter annihilation. I will deliver a blow to my enemies that will be so catastrophic it will redefine the very essence of human nature.

It was time to plot exactly what I will do on the Day of Retribution. I will be a god, punishing women and all of humanity for their depravity. I will finely deliver to them all of the pain and suffering they’ve dealt to me for so long.

The first thing I had to consider was the exact date it will take place. Valentine’s Day would have been very fitting, since it was the holiday that made me feel the most miserable and insulted, the holiday in which young couples celebrated their happy lives together. The problem was that Valentine’s Day was only a month away. I needed more time than that. Also, on Valentine’s Day most young couples will be spread out in various restaurants in the city instead of being packed together at parties in Isla Vista. Another option was Deltopia, a day in which many young people pour in from all over the state to have a spring break party on Del Playa Street. I figured this would be the perfect day to attack Isla Vista, but after watching Youtube videos of previous Deltopia parties, I saw that there were way too many cops walking around on such an event. It would be impossible to kill enough of my enemies before being dispatched by those damnable cops.

I wanted to set an exact date, on a normal Isla Vista party weekend, and once I set that date I will never change it. After a lot of thinking and consideration, I concluded to bring about the Day of Retribution on Saturday, April 26, 2014.

In the first months of 2014, which are the last months of my life, I tried to make the most out of every day. There was no a single day where I stayed in my room. Every morning, I set out in my BMW to go on adventures around the vicinity of Santa Barbara and Montecito, and I wouldn’t return until late in the night. I went on hikes in the mountains of Montecito, wandered around aimlessly in beautiful parks, took strolls along the beach, sipped lattes at various cafes, and watched the sunset at my many contemplation spots, staying there until the stars lit up the night sky. Every time I did this though, there was no escaping the sight of young couples doing the exact same thing together. It made me even more eager for the Day of Retribution to come. My life was a living hell, and that hell needed to come to an end.

I had enough extra money saved up to live comfortably and indulgently before I die. I didn’t spend all of it though, for I still needed supplies that were vital to my plans. First, I needed to buy a third handgun, just in case one of them jams. I needed two working handguns at the same time, as that was how I planned to commit suicide; with two simultaneous shots to the head. I also needed to buy magazine clips and ammunition, as well as knives and carrying cases for my equipment.

Even in the first months of 2014, leading up to the tragic day in April, the little twinge of hope inside me never faded. It remained, as if it were tiny, flickering flame of a candle in a dark room. I suppose that little flame is what prompted me to actually attend the two Spring Semester classes I registered for at

SBCC. That lasted a good two weeks, before I realized how pointless it was and dropped them. There was no hope now, and I had to accept it.

After going through every single fantasy I had about how I would punish my enemies, I started to detail all of my exact plans for how the Day of Retribution will play out.

On the day before the Day of Retribution, I will start the First Phase of my vengeance: Silently killing as many people as I can around Isla Vista by luring them into my apartment through some form of trickery. The first people I would have to kill are my two housemates, to secure the entire apartment for myself as my personal torture and killing chamber. After that, I will start luring people into my apartment, knock them out with a hammer, and slit their throats. I will torture some of the good looking people before I kill them, assuming that the good looking ones had the best sex lives. All of that pleasure they had in life, I will punish by bringing them pain and suffering. I have lived a life of pain and suffering, and it was time to bring that pain to people who actually deserve it. I will cut them, flay them, strip all the skin off their flesh, and pour boiling water all over them while they are still alive, as well as any other form of torture I could possibly think of. When they are dead, I will behead them and keep their heads in a bag, for their heads will play a major role in the final phase. This First Phase will represent my vengeance against all of the men who have had pleasurable sex lives while I’ve had to suffer. Things will be fair once I make them suffer as I did. I will finally even the score.

The Second Phase will take place on the Day of Retribution itself, just before the climactic massacre. The Second Phase will represent my War on Women. I will punish all females for the crime of depriving me of sex. They have starved me of sex for my entire youth, and gave that pleasure to other men. In doing so, they took many years of my life away. I cannot kill every single female on earth, but I can deliver a devastating blow that will shake all of them to the core of their wicked hearts. I will attack the very girls who represent everything I hate in the female gender: The hottest sorority of UCSB. After doing a lot of extensive research within the last year, I found out that the sorority with the most beautiful girls is Alpha Phi Sorority. I know exactly where their house is, and I’ve sat outside it in my car to stalk them many times. Alpha Phi sorority is full of hot, beautiful blonde girls; the kind of girls I’ve always desired but was never able to have because they all look down on me. They are all spoiled, heartless, wicked bitches. They think they are superior to me, and if I ever tried to ask one on a date, they would reject me cruelly. I will sneak into their house at around 9:00 p.m. on the Day of Retribution, just before all of the partying starts, and slaughter every single one of them with my guns and knives. If I have time, I will set their whole house on fire. Then we shall see who the superior one really is!

The Final Phase of the Day of Retribution will be my ultimate showdown in the streets of Isla Vista. On the morning before, I will drive down to my father’s house to kill my little brother, denying him of the chance to grow up to surpass me, along with my stepmother Soumaya, as she will be in the way. My father will be away on one of his business trips, so thankfully I won’t have to deal with him. If he didn’t go away on that trip, I might even have to postpone the whole plan because of my fear that I might hesitate if I have to kill him. Once I’ve taken care of my brother and stepmother, I will switch over to the Mercedes SUV, and drive it back up to Isla Vista. I will use it as one of my killing machines against my enemies. An SUV will cause a lot more damage than my BMW coupe.

After I have killed all of the sorority girls at the Alpha Phi House, I will quickly get into the the SUV before the police arrive, assuming they would arrive within 3 minutes. I will then make my way to Del Playa, splattering as many of my enemies as I can with the SUV, and shooting anyone I don’t splatter. I can only imagine how sweet it will be to ram the SUV into all of those groups of popular young people who I’ve always witnessed walking right in the middle of the road as if they are better than everyone else. When they are writhing in pain, their bodies broken and dying after I splatter them, they will fully realize their crimes.

Once I reach Del Playa Street, I will dump the bag of severed heads I had saved from my previous victims, proclaiming to everyone how much I’ve made them all suffer. Once they see all of their friend’s heads roll onto the street, everyone will fear me as the powerful god I am. I will then start massacring everyone on Del Playa Street. I will pull up next to a house party and fire bullets at everyone partying on the front yard. I will specifically target the good looking people, and all of the couples. After I have destroyed a house party, I will continue down Del Playa, destroying everything and everyone. When I see the first police car come to their rescue, I will drive away as fast as I can, shooting and ramming anyone in my path until I find a suitable place to finally end my life.

To end my life, I will quickly swallow all of the Xanax and Vicodin pills I have left, along with an ample amount of hard liquor. Immediately after imbibing this mixture, I will shoot myself in the head with two of my handguns simultaneously. If the gunshots don’t kill me, the deadly drug mixture eventually will. I will not suffer being captured and sent to prison.

I must plan this very efficiently. Nothing can go wrong. It needs to be perfect. This is now my sole purpose on this world. My plans will come to fruition, and I mustn’t let anyone stop me.

On the week leading up to date I set for the Day of Retribution, I uploaded several videos onto Youtube in order to express my views and feelings to the world, though I don’t plan on uploading my ultimate video until minutes before the attack, because on that video I will talk about exactly why I’m doing this.

I titled one of the videos I uploaded "Why do girls hate me so much?" in which I ask the entire population of women the question I’ve wanted to ask them for so many years. Why do they hate me so much? Why have they never fancied me? Why do they give their love and sex to other men, but not me, even though I deserve them more? In the video, I show that I am the perfect, magnificent gentleman, worthy of having a beautiful girlfriend, making the world see how unreasonable it is that I’ve had to struggle all my life to get a girlfriend. It is my attempt to reason with the female gender, to ask them why they have mistreated me. I was hoping I would get some sort of answer from girls. In fact, a small part of me was even hoping that a girl would see the video and contact me to give me a chance to go on a date. That alone would have prevented the Day of Retribution, if one girl had just given me one chance. But no… As expected, I got absolutely no response from any girls. The only responses I got were from other men who called me names and made fun of me. Women don’t care about me at all. They won’t even deign to tell my why they’ve mistreated me. This just shows how evil and sadistic they are. Oh well, they will realize the gravity of their crimes when I slaughter them all on the Day of Retribution. How dare they reject a magnificent gentleman like me!

As April 26th drew ever closer, I prepared myself to the fullest extent. All I had left to do was finish writing this story and film my final video. But then, on Thursday, April 24th, I woke up with a terrible cold. I rarely ever get colds! I’ve always had a strong immune system. It was as if fate itself was trying to stop me from doing it. But what other reason do I have for living? Alas, there was no way I could carry out my plans if I had a cold. Everything had to be perfect. In addition, I found out that father had arrived home two days earlier than he originally said he would, so if I had indeed went forth with my plans, I would have had to kill my father, which I wouldn’t be mentally prepared for.

I hastily decided to postpone it to Saturday, May 24th, 2014. I would definitely be fully recovered from my cold by then. This will also give me a few more weeks of life, and more time to prepare. A few days earlier, I felt so ready to finally strike back at women and humanity, with all my rage and hatred. I was profoundly eager to do it! But for some strange reason, having a few more weeks of life made me feel relieved. I took in a deep breath and relaxed. Coupled with my hate-fueled eagerness to carry out my act of revenge, there was also an extreme sense of fear inside me. Part of me still didn’t want to do it. It will mean my death, and I have always been afraid of death.

I didn’t want to be in Isla Vista on April 26th, the day I previously planned on carrying out my plans. Hearing all of my enemies partying and having a good time on the day I was supposed to kill them all would be too much to bear. I immediately called my mother and asked her if I can stay at her house for the whole weekend, exaggerating my illness so that she would let me. While there, I visited the doctor to ask about the condition of my cold, and spent the weekend in deep, peaceful contemplation.

Upon my return to Santa Barbara, I assured to myself that this was it. May 24th, 2014 was the final date. There is no postponing it anymore, no backing out. If I don’t do this, then I only have a future filled with more loneliness and rejection ahead of me, devoid of sex, love, and enjoyment. I have to do it. It’s the only thing I can do. May 24th, is the absolute last weekend in the Spring semester in which I can carry out this plan efficiently. After May 24th, the Spring semester at SBCC will end, and all of the SBCC students will go back to their hometowns, which means less enemies to kill in Isla Vista. Sure, UCSB would still be in session, but I want to kill both UCSB and SBCC students. The Day of Retribution is my sole purpose on this world, and I am ready.

After only a week passed since I uploaded those videos on Youtube, I heard a knock on my apartment door. I opened it to see about seven police officers asking for me. As soon as I saw those cops, the biggest fear I had ever felt in my life overcame me. I had the striking and devastating fear that someone had somehow discovered what I was planning to do, and reported me for it. If that was the case, the police would have searched my room, found all of my guns and weapons, along with my writings about what I plan to do with them. I would have been thrown in jail, denied of the chance to exact revenge on my enemies. I can’t imagine a hell darker than that. Thankfully, that wasn’t the case, but it was so close.

Apparently, someone saw my videos and became instantly suspicious of me. They called some sort of health agency, who called the police to check up on me. The police told me it was my mother who called them, but my mother told me it was the health agency. My mother had watched the videos and was very disturbed by them. I don’t suppose I’ll ever know the full truth of who called the police on me. The police interrogated me outside for a few minutes, asking me if I had suicidal thoughts. I tactfully told them that it was all a misunderstanding, and they finally left. If they had demanded to search my room… That would have ended everything. For a few horrible seconds I thought it was all over. When they left, the biggest wave of relief swept over me. It was so scary.

It was all because of the videos. I must have expressed too much anger in them. I immediately took most of them off of Youtube, and planned to reupload them a few days before the Day of Retribution. This incident made me realize that I needed to be extra careful. I can’t let anyone become suspicious of me. All it takes is for one person to call the police and tell them that they think I’m going to perpetrate a shooting, and the police will be coming to my door again, demanding to search my room. For the next few days, I felt extremely fearful that they could show up anytime. I kept one of my handguns with a few loaded magazines near me just in case such a thing did happen. If they did show up, I would have to try to quickly shoot them all and escape out the back window. I would then have to perform a hasty mockery of my plans, with the police on my tail. That will ruin everything. Thankfully, all suspicion of me was dropped after I took down the videos from Youtube, and the police never came back.

During the last few weeks of my life, I continued my daily adventures around town, trying to experience as much of the world as I could before I die. Upon doing this, I realized that the only world I can possibly ever experience is a twisted world of constant suffering. No matter where I go, I have to face all of the same injustices. Young couples are everywhere! They constantly remind me of what I have lacked all my life. I cannot go out of my room without seeing a young couple that would make me feel envious and enraged. How dare those girls give their love and sex to those other men and not me, I constantly think when I see young couples. There is nowhere in the world I can go anymore. There is no

more life to live. The Day of Retribution is all I have. It is the final solution to all of the injustices of this twisted world. By doing this, I will set right all of the wrongs I’ve had to face in my sorry excuse of a life.

Every single time I’ve seen a guy walk around with his beautiful girlfriend, I’ve always wanted to kill them both in the most painful way possible. They deserve it. They must be punished. The males deserve to be punished for living a better and more pleasurable life than me, and the females deserve to be punished for giving that pleasurable life to those males instead of me. On the Day of Retribution, I will finally be able to punish them ALL.

When I think about the amazing and blissful life I could have lived if only females were sexually attracted to me, my entire being burns with hatred. They denied me a happy life, and in return I will take away all of their lives. It is only fair.

I am not part of the human race. Humanity has rejected me. The females of the human species have never wanted to mate with me, so how could I possibly consider myself part of humanity? Humanity has never accepted me among them, and now I know why. I am more than human. I am superior to them all. I am Elliot Rodger… Magnificent, glorious, supreme, eminent… Divine! I am the closest thing there is to a living god. Humanity is a disgusting, depraved, and evil species. It is my purpose to punish them all. I will purify the world of everything that is wrong with it. On the Day of Retribution, I will truly be a powerful god, punishing everyone I deem to be impure and depraved.
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Re: My Twisted World: The Story of Elliot Rodger, by Elliot

Postby admin » Fri Mar 13, 2015 10:16 pm

Epilogue

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And that is how my tragic life ends. Who would have thought my life will turn out this way? I didn’t. There was a time when I thought this world was a good and happy place. As a child, my whole world was innocent. It wasn’t until I went through puberty and started desiring girls that my whole life turned into a living hell. I desired girls, but girls never desired me back. There is something very wrong with that. It is an injustice that cannot go unpunished. There is no way I could live a happy life with such a scenario.

Not only did I have to waste my entire youth suffering in loneliness and unfulfilled desire, but I had to live with the knowledge that other boys my age were able to have all of the experiences I craved for. It is absolutely unfair and unjust. In addition, I had to suffer the shame of other boys respecting me less because I didn’t get any girls. Everyone knew I was a virgin. Everyone knew how undesirable I was to girls, and I hated everyone just for knowing it. I want people to think that girls adore me. I want to feel worthy. There is no pride in living as a lonely, unwanted outcast. I wouldn’t even call it living.

I am not meant to live such a pathetic, miserable life. That is not my place in this world. I will not bow down and accept such a horrific fate. If humanity will not give me a worthy place among them, then I will destroy them all. I am better than all of them. I am a god. Exacting my Retribution is my way of proving my true worth to the world.

In the midst of my suffering, I have been able to see the world much clearer than others. I have vision that other people lack. Through my suffering, I have been able to see just how twisted and wrong this world really is. The current state of humanity is what makes it wrong. I look at the human race and I see only vileness and depravity, all because of an act known as… sexuality…

Sex is by far the most evil concept in existence. The fact that life itself exists through sex just proves that life is flawed. The act of sex gives human beings a tremendous amount of pleasure. Pleasure they don’t deserve. No one deserves to experience so much pleasure, especially since some humans get to experience it while some are denied it. When a man has sex with a beautiful woman, he probably feels like he is in heaven. But the world is not supposed to be heaven. For some humans to actually be able to feel such heights of heavenly pleasure is selfish and hedonistic.

The ultimate evil behind sexuality is the human female. They are the main instigators of sex. They control which men get it and which men don’t. Women are flawed creatures, and my mistreatment at their hands has made me realize this sad truth. There is something very twisted and wrong with the way their brains are wired. They think like beasts, and in truth, they are beasts. Women are incapable of having morals or thinking rationally. They are completely controlled by their depraved emotions and vile sexual impulses. Because of this, the men who do get to experience the pleasures of sex and the privilege of breeding are the men who women are sexually attracted to… the stupid, degenerate, obnoxious men. I have observed this all my life. The most beautiful of women choose to mate with the most brutal of men, instead of magnificent gentlemen like myself.

Women should not have the right to choose who to mate and breed with. That decision should be made for them by rational men of intelligence. If women continue to have rights, they will only hinder the advancement of the human race by breeding with degenerate men and creating stupid, degenerate offspring. This will cause humanity to become even more depraved with each generation. Women have more power in human society than they deserve, all because of sex. There is no creature more evil and depraved than the human female.

Women are like a plague. They don’t deserve to have any rights. Their wickedness must be contained in order prevent future generations from falling to degeneracy. Women are vicious, evil, barbaric animals, and they need to be treated as such.

In fully realizing these truths about the world, I have created the ultimate and perfect ideology of how a fair and pure world would work. In an ideal world, sexuality would not exist. It must be outlawed. In a world without sex, humanity will be pure and civilized. Men will grow up healthily, without having to worry about such a barbaric act. All men will grow up fair and equal, because no man will be able to experience the pleasures of sex while others are denied it. The human race will evolve to an entirely new level of civilization, completely devoid of all the impurity and degeneracy that exists today.

In order to completely abolish sex, women themselves would have to be abolished. All women must be quarantined like the plague they are, so that they can be used in a manner that actually benefits a civilized society. In order carry this out, there must exist a new and powerful type of government, under the control of one divine ruler, such as myself. The ruler that establishes this new order would have complete control over every aspect of society, in order to direct it towards a good and pure place. At the disposal of this government, there needs to be a highly trained army of fanatically loyal troops, in order to enforce such revolutionary laws.

The first strike against women will be to quarantine all of them in concentration camps. At these camps, the vast majority of the female population will be deliberately starved to death. That would be an efficient and fitting way to kill them all off. I would take great pleasure and satisfaction in condemning every single woman on earth to starve to death. I would have an enormous tower built just for myself, where I can oversee the entire concentration camp and gleefully watch them all die. If I can’t have them, no one will, I’d imagine thinking to myself as I oversee this. Women represent everything that is unfair with this world, and in order to make the world a fair place, they must all be eradicated.

A few women would be spared, however, for the sake of reproduction. These women would be kept and bred in secret labs. There, they will be artificially inseminated with sperm samples in order to produce offspring. Their depraved nature will slowly be bred out of them in time.

Future generations of men would be oblivious to these remaining women’s existence, and that is for the best. If a man grows up without knowing of the existence of women, there will be no desire for sex. Sexuality will completely cease to exist. Love will cease to exist. There will no longer be any imprint of such concepts in the human psyche. It is the only way to purify the world.

In such a pure world, the man’s mind can develop to greater heights than ever before. Future generations will live their lives free of having to worry about the barbarity of sex and women, which will enable them to expand their intelligence and advance the human race to a state of perfect civilization.

It is such a shameful pity that my ideal world cannot be created. I realized long ago that there is no way I could possibly rise to such a level of power in my lifetime, with the way the world is now. Such a thing will never become a reality for me, but it did give me something to fantasize about as I burned with hatred towards all women for rejecting me throughout the years. This whole viewpoint and ideology of abolishing sex stems from being deprived of it all my life. If I cannot have it, I will do everything I can to DESTROY IT.

My orchestration of the Day of Retribution is my attempt to do everything, in my power, to destroy everything I cannot have. All of those beautiful girls I’ve desired so much in my life, but can never have because they despise and loathe me, I will destroy. All of those popular people who live hedonistic lives of pleasure, I will destroy, because they never accepted me as one of them. I will kill them all and make them suffer, just as they have made me suffer. It is only fair.

Why do things have to be this way? I’m sure that is the question everyone will be asking after the Day of Retribution is over. They will all be asking why. Indeed, why? That is the question I’ve had for everyone throughout all my years of suffering. Why was I condemned to live a life of misery and worthlessness while other men were able to experience the pleasures of sex and love with women? Why do things have to be this way? I ask all of you.

All I ever wanted was to love women, and in turn to be loved by them back. Their behavior towards me has only earned my hatred, and rightfully so! I am the true victim in all of this. I am the good guy. Humanity struck at me first by condemning me to experience so much suffering. I didn’t ask for this. I didn’t want this. I didn’t start this war… I wasn’t the one who struck first… But I will finish it by striking back. I will punish everyone. And it will be beautiful. Finally, at long last, I can show the world my true worth.

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