Dear die-ary, I've been living in this small house for three days now. The first night here was the worst. I had terrible dreams. I was back at school, I was just leaning against the corner. I just watched as hot lead dug itself deep into my classmates. I didn't feel sorry for them they deserved what they got, but then I looked at me. I was right there holding the gun. Smiling. Smiling. Smiling. It was like I enjoyed what I was doing. It wasn't my duty or my job, it was a game to me. Skater five points, jock ten, captain of the football team fifty, Jane... Game Over. The manic smile quickly evaporated off of my face. Proof that it wasn't a game any more... it was murder. But hasn't it been murder all along? Those were human beings that I killed. Oh god.. I-I killed... How could I so easily fool myself to believe otherwise? I'm afraid at what I'm turning into. I haven't eaten since I got here. I'm to paranoid about the police to leave the house. I'm sick of these emotions. Fear and paranoia, they have me crippled in my time of need. Hate got me here. What did I do? What do I do? I need help.
Johnny C. 5/3 12:57 AM
A/N Yes these are all going to be short.