Monday, May 21, 2018

Negation Aspiration vol. 109

One of Pagourtzis' classmates who died in the attack, Shana Fisher, "had 4 months of problems from this boy," her mother, Sadie Rodriguez, wrote in a private message to the Los Angeles Times on Facebook. "He kept making advances on her and she repeatedly told him no."
Pagourtzis continued to get more aggressive, and she finally stood up to him and embarrassed him in class, Rodriguez said. "A week later he opens fire on everyone he didn't like," she wrote. "Shana being the first one." Rodriguez didn't say how she knew her daughter was the first victim.

Texas school shooter killed girl who turned down his advances and embarrassed him in class, her mother says

this just might be the depressive episode talking, but this detail is hitting me especially hard.

i remember when i was the age of this shooter, clinging desperately to the hope that the one girl i had wanted every day for 2 years would finally give me a chance, despite her barely concealed loathing of what this obsession had made of me.

the two of us were able to keep it relatively civil, and i confined my frustration and self-loathing to band practice and increasingly deranged masturbation habits. but one day i couldn't hold it in any longer. we were sitting in the cafeteria, and she was griping about her aunt giving her a gift certificate to the Gap (she was a Hot Topic loyalist, 'natch), and for some reason it was this annoyingly trite expression of moody teen angst that started the reactor, and i launched into a pretty nasty tirade about her being a poser, and... at the top of her lungs... in a crowded cafeteria... at a table full of friends and acquaintances... she called me "dickless".

it was in that moment that the revenge fantasies directed at her succession of boytoys were now sharply pointed toward her person... doing physical harm to her...nearly mummifying her body in spools of garrote wire, dangling her from a ceiling by a meathook, whipping her exposed flesh with extension cords, branding and carving my initials across her skin ala Krug and Mary in Last House On The Left. the permissive nice guy shit clearly wouldn't work on this fucking pig. she needs to be deconstructed until there's nothing but streaks of mascara, snot lobs, and split lips. it wasn't about not fucking me. it wasn't about not loving me. it was about not respecting me. leaving me alone for entire seasons once things got to real. not being direct. making me afraid to be direct. for all the "well maybe later"s. for us making out on more than one occasion only for her to tell people that i'm "more like a brother". for her warm facade and pre-scripted cuteness acting a mask for vengeance-motivated sociopathy. she hated the word "cunt". maybe i'd brand that word on her cunting forehead....

after imagining all of this, i felt better. i found (and still find) that ventilating my loathsomeness through writing was enough to alleviate the enhanced stings of rejection. it acts as an emotional/intellectual detoxifyer, enabling me to go about the rest of my day without coming apart at the seams.

i would recommend this practice to anyone who is going through something similar. any man or woman... straight or gay.... and everything in between. these feelings have no gender bias. they need to be processed, digested, and the waste expunged from out hearts and minds.

i'm honored to accept your waste.

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