Archive of Kip Kinkel’s writings
“I have just killed my parents! I don't know what is happening. I love my mom and dad so much. I just got two felonies on my record. My parents can't take that! It would destroy them. The embarrassment would be too much for them. They couldn't live with themselves. I'm so sorry. I am a horrible son. I wish I had been aborted. I destroy everything I touch. I can't eat. I can't sleep. I didn't deserve them. They were wonderful people. It's not their fault or the fault of any person, organization, or television show. My head just doesn't work right. God damn these VOICES inside my head. I want to die. I want to be gone. But I have to kill people. I don't know why. I am so sorry! Why did God do this to me. I have never been happy. I wish I was happy. I wish I made my mother proud. I am nothing! I tried so hard to find happiness. But you know me I hate everything. I have no other choice. What have I become? I am so sorry”
-Found in the coffee table of his house’s living room, I was only able to find a transcript and a small snippet of it that’s tossed around.
Writing on his Spanish homework
“I will hunt you down and put a hole in your head. Without explosives. You hear me. Power to the shampoo. You must DIE.”
“I sit here all alone. I am always alone. I don’t know who I am. I want to be something I can never be. I try so hard every day. But in the end, I hate myself for what I’ve become.
Every single person I know means nothing to me. I hate every person on this earth. I wish they could all go away.
The only reason I stay alive is because of hope. Even though I am repulsive and few people know who I am, I still feel that things might, maybe, just a little bit, get better.
I don’t understand any fucking person on this earth. Some of you are so weak, mainly, that a four year old could push you down. I am strong, but my head just doesn’t work right. I know I should be happy with what I have, but I hate living.
Every time I talk to her, I have a small amount of hope. But then she will tear it right down. It feels like my heart is breaking. But is that possible. I am so consumed with hate all of the time. Could I ever love anyone? I have feelings, but do I have a heart that’s not black and full of animosity?
I know everyone thinks this way sometimes, but I am so full of rage that I feel I could snap at any moment. I think about it everyday. Blowing the school up or just taking the easy way out, and walk into a pep assembly with guns. In either case, people that are breathing will stop breathing. That is how I will repay all you mother fuckers for all you put me through.
I feel like everyone is against me, but no one ever makes fun of me, mainly because they think I am a psycho. There is one kid above all others that I want to kill. I want nothing more than to put a hole in his head. The one reason I don’t: Hope. That tomorrow will be better. As soon as my hope is gone, people die.
I ask myself why I hate more than anyone else. I don’t know. But my head and heart want him dead. He only knows who I am through reputation, and I know he is scared of me. He should be. One bad day, and there will be a sawed off shotgun in his face or five pounds of Semtex under his bed.
I need help. There is one person that could help, but she won’t. I need to find someone else. I think I love her, but she could never love me. I don’t know why I try.
Oh fuck. I sound so pitiful. People would laugh at this if they read it. I hate being laughed at. But they won’t laugh after they’re scraping parts of their parents, sisters, brothers, and friends from the wall of my hate.
Please. Someone, help me. All I want is something small. Nothing big. I just want to be happy. End. New day. Today of all days, I ask her to help me. I was shot down. I feel like my heart has been ripped open and ripped apart. Right now, I’m drunk, so I don’t know what the hell is happening to me.
It is clear that no one will help me. Oh God, I am so close to killing people. So close.
I gave her all I have, and she just threw it away. Why? Why did God just want me to be in complete misery? I need to find more weapons. My parents are trying to take away some of my guns! My guns are the only things that haven’t stabbed me in the back.
My eyes hurt. They hurt so bad. They feel like they are trying to crawl out of my head. Why aren’t I normal? Help me. No one will. I will kill every last mother fucking one of you. The thought of you is still racing in my head. I am too drunk to make sense.
Every time I see your face, my heart is shot with an arrow. I think she will say yes, but she doesn’t, does she? She says, “I don’t know”. The three most fucked up words in the English language.
I want you to feel this, be this, taste this, kill this. Kill me. Oh God, I don’t want to live. Will I see it to the end? What kind of dad would I make? All humans are evil. I just want to end the world of evil.
I don’t want to see, hear, speak or feel evil, but I can’t help it. I am evil. I want to kill and give pain without a cost. And there is no such thing. We kill him —we killed him a long time ago. Anyone that believes in God is a fucking sheep.
If there was a God, he wouldn’t let me feel the way I do . . . Love isn’t real, only hate remains. Only hate.”
Letter to a 16 year old girl
I received your letter. I don’t know if it will help you to receive this letter or not but the first thing I want to say is that I am sorry for the pain you are feeling.
I know this time in your life can be very difficult. However, I want to promise you that things will get better. Do not give up. Do not give in. Please know that your life will get better, You just have to hang in there during some dark periods.
And please trust me on the next point, If you are hearing things in your head that is saying awful things you need to ask an adult for help. You need to tell a school counselor or professional. I know this might not seem like what you want to do, but trust me, there is help out there, and my biggest regret is that I never asked for it when I was a kid.
Find someone, an adult you can trust, and ask for help.
The pain you are feeling doesn’t have to be there.
Listen, normally when a 16-year-old writes me I don’t write back. However, in your case I am worried and I hope you take what I say seriously.
You are a good person and you are doing the right thing reaching out for help. Please talk to people, adults, you think you can trust. They can help you far better than I can. Life can, and will, get better. Please just hang in there. Please trust me that things will get better if you just hold on.
Who Is Kip Kinkel? - Kip's Writings And Statements | The Killer At Thurston High | FRONTLINE | PBS
