To the man and woman who chose to conceive a child, the result of which was me, when it fit in with their five year plan;
To the teachers who never really cared, no matter what they say;
To my fellow geeks, dweebs, et. al., who will no doubt receive more
abuse upon my passing, as my tormentors will no longer have me to kick
around;
To my fellow students who made my life a living nightmare when they should have focused on their education;
To those who never cared, never spoke, probably never knew my name;
To the one true friend, whose caring was the only thing that prevented this even from happening sooner;
To the God, if he does exist, who chose to play a cruel, cruel joke on
me when he placed me where he did and surrounded me with so many
uncaring faces;
To all of you, goodbye.
I am leaving a world to which I never truly belonged or fit in. Do not
weep for me, or mourn my passing. I say this not because I expect to be
missed, but to allow those who truly did not care go on with their lives
with a clean conscience and dry eyes. I know you don't want to weep for
me. So don't. But I do ask you to listen to the final words of a young
man who has taken charge of his own destiny.
Perhaps my parents might feel something inside which causes them to shed
tears. They may pretend that it's sorrow for their "loss", but I hope
it is something else. Perhaps sorrow for bringing a child into this
world when they really didn't have the time or desire to raise him. I
wasn't the product of love, born of a desire to prepare another human
being to grow and lead the human race. I was merely the next
acquisition, the next task, the next project on their list of things
that bring significance.
No child should be brought into this world for the mere purpose of being
just another possession. I am not an asset to be cataloged and listed
on your tax forms beside your house and car, or fought over during your
divorce proceedings. I am a human being. I'm sorry that it took this to
make you realize that. If you don't yet get it, then I'm even sorrier.
What about my teachers? Will they be sorry to see another student become
a statistic? Certainly the administration and Principal Chowning will
mourn, as my death will not reflect well on them as an institution.
Well, I apologize for making the statistics for your administration
worse. But I don't expect an apology for the false sympathies of people
like Mrs. Dunfee, and the broken promises of others like Mr. Richman.
As for my fellows students, those who made a more significant impact on
my life, I know better than to expect my tormentors to mourn.
But if I'm going to address those who belittled me, I'd be remiss if
I failed to include the ladies in my life. I guess that's not
entirely accurate, as the ones I refer to fall in two basic categories:
those who refused to be in my life, and those who I would rather have
excluded from my life. In the former category, Melinda Tunney, Jessica
Silvers, and dear Kimmy Vanover, whose laughed in my face after I asked
her to the homecoming dance, humiliating me in front of I don't know
how many other classmates. In the latter category are too many to
mention, though I must single out Rebecca Cull and Vanessa Dietrich for
their tremendous dedication to the cause of destroying any shred of
self-esteem I might dare to foster. Why can't you accept the things
that make other people different rather than insisting everyone conforms
to your will?
Sure, some did offer friendly gestures. Nicole Edwards often would greet
me and ask about my life. Not that I ever felt comfortable enough to
tell her anything; I never trusted her enough to give her the chance.
What was the purpose? Did you really give a flip about the shy, quiet
kid who sat behind you in 8th grade history? Or was it all about
creating an illusion that you care, just to guarantee my voting for you
as a class officer.
I can only conceive of one person in this world who will truly be sad at
my parting. Marty, my best friend, you talked me out of this decision
three times before. You even called 911 after I swallowed a bottle of
pills. That is why I did not tell you anything this time, and why I do
this in secret, alone. I wish you were coming with me on this great
adventure, into the final frontier. Where ever I go, yours will be the
one face I carry with me. The one soul I will miss. Yours is also the
only forgiveness I ask and beg for as I depart from this life. I love
you, and always will.
There's another group I have not yet addressed: those not like me who
left me alone. Or I should say ignored me. I appreciate your sparing me
any further harassment, but your inaction, your withheld hellos and how
are yous did more to hurt than any name calling. Your inaction
effectively excluded me from student life, from the human race. You left
me isolated and alone, and no words I could say can convey to you the
suffering you caused. I could name names, but in doing so, I would do
more now for you than you ever did for me in life.
I do not know if what awaits me at the end of this gun. Will there be a
void? Or will I come face to face with God? I just don't care any more.
If you're anything like your people, I wouldn't want to know you. You
preached to love one another, yet I've felt everything except love from
Christians. Even if I could know you were different, well, I still
reject you. You have left your "followers" to treat people like me
poorly. You have allowed so many of the people you "love", including me,
to suffer. So you want me to trust you with my life? I don't want to
spend eternity with a careless deity like you, or with the company you
keep.
As my final moments tick away, I wonder what impact these words will
create. It depends first on this web site being found, as I doubt
whether school administration will want such venom spoken publicly about
their lack of caring. Still, the Internet is a remarkable place where
even the least significant individual can be heard. Will anyone listen?
Will anyone take action? Will students pause and pay attention to the
hurting hearts around them? And even if they do, will it be a temporary
salve for their egos, to convince themselves they're really not bad
people or will real change happen?
My heart certainly goes out to my fellow outsiders. With me gone, some
of you will certainly feel more of the pain and hurt that I did. No one
understands you. No one cares how your day is going. No one bothers to
get to know you as anything more than a nerd, a geek, a loser. You can
do nothing for their social status, save the occasional boost to the ego
they get from putting you in your place. Some of you, like Andy Riker,
will find outlets in writing. Some, like James Moon, will have an escape
in art. Some, like Sean Gilbert, will live their lives pursuing
unicorns that they will never, ever catch. I never had a talent to lose
myself in, or a dream or unicorn to chase, and so I have taken the path
most dreaded. Some of you may soon join me, and I look forward to
welcoming a brother or sister to the land where you will never suffer
the loneliness and rejection that faces you now.
Farewell forever. I am going to another place. Where, I do not know. But
logic dictates that it can only be an improvement. Perhaps my passing
will only prove a footnote in a school yearbook. Then again, perhaps the
sacrifice of one might bring hope to others. If my death makes life for
one person a little more bearable, or a little more enlightened, do I
really die in vain?
"The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few, or the one."
- Adam Krieger
5/25/2012
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