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Commentary: Day One
When I posted this in my old online diary, at www.freeopendiary.com, I was quite surprised with the number of emails I got.
Apparently a good number of people, both friends and complete strangers, thought it was an actual entry on my actual feelings of the moment.
What this means for the story itself, I'm not sure. I suppose it could be a testament to the realistic tone of the story.
But remembering that I am one of those angst-ridden writers who despise everything they create, I highly doubt it.
I will admit this much, that I have entertained fantasies similar to the one the narrator uses. While I never quite went as far as he did, with details and such, I did find myself often wondering if murdering every single one of my highschool tormentors would do any good.
I did in fact, get in trouble once for verbalizing these ideas.
The conversation went as follows:
Nameless Girl: (Giggling, amongst a crowd of several other giggling girls) Hey, are you going to blow up the school?
Me: (Sarcastic) Yes...watch out...boom.
This conversation was enough to gain me three hours in the Principal's office.
Beyond that, I never took it past the angry fantasies. The sort of thoughts I would after a particularly miserable day at school would dance about in my mind, and quickly disappear. I have never seriously believed that killing the jerks of the world would do much good.
I tend to believe in Karma instead. I like to think that fate will deal them a much better hand than some bitter little kid like me ever could.
But I know that there are people like the narrator in this story. Not just the ones who have made the news in recent years, but the ones who are coming up behind them. The Columbine Kids of tomorrow are indeed quite real.
And do I identify with them? Do I feel they are justified in what they want to do?
Not really. I have little pity in my heart for those who are unable to understand that all of this highschool nonsense is misery of the most temporary nature.
Though I also have a hard time understanding the confusion exclaimed by the classmates of these sorts of kids. They have no idea as to why someone wouldn't respond kindly to daily beatings, and extended trips to a claustrophobic locker in the hallway. And they honestly believed that insults such as 'faggot' and the forty seven thousand variations of the word 'loser' were compliments of the highest caliber.
So, I guess the whole story is a note of disgust towards both sides of the fence. I would like very much for stories like these to borderline the notions of science fiction. I would much rather live in a world where everyone, at the risk of sounding corny, quite simply got along with one another.
But as that is very unlikely to ever happen, I suppose stories such as these will always strike a chord with people.