some of you have been asking for me to elaborate on this sooooo here it is i lowk wrote a whole imagine
(we also know that he was rude and aggressive towards women, so keep that in mind. im not pretending like he was sunshine rainbow boy from heaven. hes abusive in my fantasy, just like irl)
i think about being that girl who dylan doesn't know personally, but writes about as if we've been close in every lifetime we've lived.
i think about that love letter he wrote and sorta leading him on after it, but not even being aware of it though. accidentally feeding into his delusions. maybe waving to him in the hallway, letting my gaze linger on him, things that to him mean that i'm in love with him but in reality are just me being aware, for the first time, that he exists.
his journal entries would probably get more frantic and less coherent, if they ever were in the first place. he's convinced now that i'm in love with him but something is keeping me away.
maybe its family, friends, the bullshit school we're in... an outside force. he's 100% sure that he has to get me to see past them.
so he starts approaching me. obviously he's not good at this kind of thing, he's never had a 1-on-1 conversation with this "halcyon girl" and his nerves are through the roof. he starts planting the seeds of doubt by pretending to be some kind, misunderstood guy who gets a bad rep from his "bullies".
he pretends to overhear my friends talking about me, teachers criticizing my performance, sports coaches doubting my abilitiesâ stuff that starts to infest my mind. is any of it true? maybe some. that's how he remains trustworthy to me. he'll provide proof to the truthful stories he's telling just so that his lies look a little more believable.
soon, he's no longer intel only. he's made sure he's the only friend i have. and theseâ these are such rough times, right?.. ive got no one left that hasn't put me down in some way! so he has to make up for it.
that's what a good guy does, right?
so he spends extra time with me alone and tries to figure me out. sure, he does love me, but he's had to work so hard to get into my life that he's gotta make sure he stays put. he learns what upsets me, the troubles in my life, my biggest fears.
he disguises it all as innocent friendship until his frustration boils over and decides he can't wait any longer for me to come to my own conclusion that i "love him". he needs to help.
his way of helping me see clearly comes in the awful form of guilt-tripping and manipulating my need to help other people.
he'll tell me how depressed he's been watching me suffer because of other peopleâ how he mutilates himself beyond repair and cries and punches walls because he'll never get the chance to take me away from it all. how it pains him. he'll hit himself, scream, and admit that he'll be alone forever, destined to watch me be hurt by others. why doesn't he just commit suicide, right?
so i start dating him out of pity, to save him from his own wretched, lonely thoughts, which only enables his delusional thoughts more. finally, i've come to my senses! other people aren't in the way! and as he spirals, he promises himself that nothing will get in the way ever againâ no matter what.
âThe Colorado teen killers were poisoned by a hidden, terrifingly evil side of the Internet which turned them from decent kids into deranged killers - and they set up a sick Website to spew their hatred.â
credit to LPorter101 from clmbn forum for the images
Transcript:
âAs the Death Day approached, teen gunman Eric Harris showed how horribly twisted his mind had become in his Web site diary, obtained by The ENQUIRER:
âMy belief is that if I say something, it goes. I am the law, if you donât like it, you die. If I donât like you or I donât like what you want me to do, you die. If I do something incorrect⊠you die. Dead people canât do many things, like argue, whine, bitch, complain, (not sure what this says), rat out, criticize or even f____ing talk.
So thatâs the only way to solve with all you f___heads out there. I just kill. God, I canât wait till I kill you people⊠I donât care if I live or die in the shootout, all I want to do is kill and injure as many of you pr___s as I canâŠ
All you people out there can just kiss my ass and die. From now on, I donât give a f___ what almost any of you mutha______ have to say unless I respect you which is highly unlikely. But for those of you who happen to know me and know that I respect you, may peace be with you and donât be in my line of fire. For the rest of you, you all better f____ing hide in you houses because Iâm coming for EVERYONE soon, and I WILL be armed to the f_____ing teeth and I WILL shoot to kill and I WILL f____ing KILL EVERYTHING.â
The ENQUIRER pored over the chilling online diary, now removed by Internet giant America Online. We discovered that it took three years for Harris and his pal Dylan Klebold to sink deeper and deeper into the cyberspace (not sure what this says), a bizarre world of of extremely violent games, the Ku Klux Klan and even Nazis.
They found on-line games that taught them how to kill and also discovered a fiendish 300-page âcookbookâ with recipes for building devastating bombs.
Their descent into madness fully exploded into real-life bloodshed on April 20 at CHS. It was the end of a bizarre, twisted journey that began in 1996.
Eric Harris, the son of a highly decorated Air Force pilot had moved with his family from Plattsburgh, N.Y. to Littleton, Colorado in 1993.
He was a bean pole of a kid, 5-foot-10 and just 140 pounds, but finally found a pal he could literally look up to: 6-foot-5, 180 pound Dylan Klebold who lived in a million dollar mansion and drove a BMW, one of his familyâs eight cars.
âEric and Dylan were both crazy about a game called Doomâ revealed âJasonâ, a friend who wants to disguise his identity.
Jason, who lives thousands of miles from once-peaceful Littleton, met the boys on-line in an Internet chatroom where participants illegally (scope, soap? No idea) copyrighted games such as Doom and other software.
âIn Doom, you walk through different mazes, with different weapons, shooting and blowing up evil creatures who die in a really bloody fashion." Jason, who was also interviewed by the FBI, told The ENQUIRER.
Taunted by their school's âjocksâ computer nerds Eric and Dylan fantasized that the "Doom" monsters were actually their tormentors, the athleles.
âWhen I heard about what they did at CHS, I thought âTheyâre playing Doom for real!â
Those hallways and the kids they were killing must have looked like a real-life Doom game to themâ disclosed Jason.
âThey were not crazy kids at first, but they became that way because of the Internet. They were on it all the time, sometimes in the afternoon and even in the middle of the night.â
âAt times I got up at 3 a.m. to get something to drink and found them on line playing Doom. We played other games too â Quake and Starcraft â which involve killing people with body parts (not sure what this says)â
Two years ago Eric and Dylan took a giant step toward destruction.
They discovered a handbook for murder on the Internet.
â âThe Jolly Roger Cookbook*â circulates on the Internet and thousands kids have it Printed outâ Jason divulged to The ENQUIRER.
âIt tells how to make pipe bombs, hand grenades, napalm, explosives and other weapons.
Every single bomb they used at the high school, including the propane bombs and time bombs, they learned how to make from âThe Jolly Roger Cookbookâââ
* The Anarchist Cookbook, censored i assume
Gay secret that pushed them over the edge
âEric Harris and Dylan Klebold unleashed the full fury of their murderous rage after a group of girls accused them of being gay lovers.
Pushed to the edge by the school athletes who shoved them around and called them âfaggotsâ, the two outsiders finally snapped from this final humiliation.
The girls taunted Eric and Dylan in the school library â the exact area where the two enraged gunmen returned to mow down most of their victims.
âThere was an accident a year ago that set Eric and Dylan off on their murderous course, â a fellow student divulged to The ENQUIRER.
âThey were sitting in the library wearing their ridiculous heavy black coats on a warm spring day last April. A group of girls was sniggering at the table next to them, and Eric finally asked what they were laughing at.
One of them told him, âYou guys look alike, talk alike and are always together. We just want to know when youâre getting married!â
A look of rage came over Ericâs face and he made a fist at the girl. âShut upâ he shouted.
Dylan got up and screamed âYouâre all so stupid! Everyone in this school is stupid! You better watch it!â
They both stormed out of the library, kicking chairs as they went.
The girls were stunned â they were only teasing the guys. It was no big deal to them.
The boys vowed the school was going to pay for the humiliation they put them through. And when the bloodbath happened, we wondered if they attacked people in the library with special ferocity because of the humiliation they had suffered there.â
True to their word, Eric and Dylan began plotting their strategy for the attack after being embarrassed by the girls. It took them a year to prepare and build their arsenal.
Fellow student Joe Stair, who hung out with Dylan and Eric, revealed, âThe jocks continually taunted us. They called us faggots and they teased us. They would see one of us walking down the hall and push that student against the lockers.â
Eric and Dylan neither forgave nor forgot.
âEric went through his yearbook â marking kids for life or death in the rampage to come, â disclosed an inside source. He and Dylan decided to âsaveâ a few â and marked their pictures with âsaveâ.
âOthers had âdeadâ or âdyingâ scrawled above their pictures. â
As horrible as the tragedy was, it could have been a lot worse. Revealed local sheriff John Stone: âThey planned to kill at least 500 people.ââ
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