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 21
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 21
Birthday. And it’s true, I would have been alone. Isn’t that such a sad thing to contemplate? Being alone
on my 21
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
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
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.