Part 6: 21 Years Old Continued

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


     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



     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.


     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. 

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