I was picked on A LOT in high school. I think it was because I tried so hard to be cool and everyone saw right through it. There were these 4 cowboy jock types that gave it to me the worst.
After being publicly humiliated and beaten in front of a girl I liked (as she laughed/cheered), I decided that none of it was worth it anymore.
I had no support at home being an only child and having parents that worked constantly, and cutting and burning myself didn’t make me feel better anymore. So I got my dad’s handgun out of the gun-safe (he uses the same combo for everything, the idiot) and brought it to school with me the next day.
I can’t adequately describe to you guys how ready I was to kill these four. I had absolutely no fear or doubt in my mind. I wanted nothing more than to show everyone what happens when you push someone over the edge like they did. I had the gun tucked in my waistline. I was wearing this baggy pair of cargo shorts that i wore a couple times a week that day. I remember walking towards the cowboy’s table, so goddamn ready for it to be over, when the gun fell out of my waistline, down my left short leg and made the loudest fucking sound as it hit the cafeteria floor. I tried my best to grab the gun real quick, but people saw what it was and screamed, and one of the instructors tackled me to the ground.
They eventually concluded that I had brought the gun to school to impress people with badassery, and had no intention of using it. I was expelled and sent to live at a youth ranch in Idaho until I was 18. I did have the intention of using it though. I was going to kill all of them. I’m 24 now, and I still think about it all the time. I have not recovered from high school. I’m still terrified of people in general, and avoid having relationships because of what I fear I’m capable of.
I’m not looking for pity. I know that what I did was wrong, it just feels good to tell the story.
Producer’s note: this is an excerpt from Reddit user Adam_Alpha‘s account of his story.