My Twisted World

by Elliot Rodger

  My parents quickly took note of how radical I was becoming, and they made a hasty plan to change my life. Of course, that is what they claimed. I think they were just trying to find a way to get rid of me because I was too hard to deal with. Soumaya was going back to Morocco, and they decided to send me with her. It was the most ridiculous plan I’ve ever heard.

  They announced this to me at a café near my mother’s house. I was expecting something extreme, something drastic, but this? It completely caught me off guard. Morocco? They think I’ll be happy there?

  I furiously thought with disbelief. I was devastated, and for a moment I couldn’t even speak. The last thing I wanted was to hide away in a backwater country with nothing to do, while all of my peers enjoy life in the U.S. I didn’t want to run away from my troubles in the U.S., I wanted to confront them. I just didn’t know how. Going to Morocco was the absolute worst solution for me, and they intended for me to stay there for a long time.

  After hearing this news, I felt a sense of urgency that I had never felt before. They already had a plane ticket ready for me, and I was scheduled to leave in five days. My immediate goal was to stop my parents from sending me to Morocco. Throwing a tantrum with my mother didn’t work. She was set on this.

  I spent the remaining five days at father’s house. While there, I chose not to protest at all, because I knew it wouldn’t work. They will force me onto that plane one way or another. I decided to keep quiet and devise a plan of escape. I bided my time, and didn’t talk much to father or Soumaya during those last few days. The plan I came up with was to run away on the morning before the flight, walk all the way to my mother’s condo, and hide in a secret spot on the roof. It would be a place where they least expected me to be.

  I kept quiet in the last couple of days to throw off their suspicion, but that backfired and made them even more suspicious. I suppose they expected me to protest about going, and my silence made them think I was up to something.

  When the time came, I decided to get up at 4:00 a.m. to prepare. To my dismay, I noticed that my father set an alarm on the front door. I was planning to run away at 6:00 a.m., when the garbage truck arrived, because the noise from the truck would mask any noise I make while leaving. The alarm, however, would definitely alert father and Soumaya. I got too nervous and abandoned that idea.

  Instead, I waited until everyone woke up and had breakfast. My plan was ruined by the alarm, and I had to come up with a new plan fast! I had little time left. I innocently told father I wanted to go on a small walk before the departure, and as soon as I exited the front door, I bolted at full speed. It was hasty, but I had to do something. I didn’t think father would catch on to my deception so quickly… After only clearing one block, I looked behind my shoulder and saw father chasing after me. All of my hope collapsed then and there, and I lost all of the fight in me. I stopped running and put my head down in defeat. Soumaya came in the car minutes later, and they both took me home. The plan failed. I was going to Morocco.

  The journey to Morocco was the most horrendous travel experience I’ve ever had. It was just me, Soumaya, and four-year-old Jazz. Jazz kept screaming and vomiting on the plane, Soumaya was in a sour mood, and I was completely miserable. I thought my whole life was all over. I had nothing to look forward to in the future. I wanted to die.

  Once I got there I felt like all of the life in me had drained out. I was so defeated. I couldn’t help but cry all the time, even in front of Soumaya’s relatives. Khadija didn’t understand why I was so upset, and she got offended that I was crying on the first day at her house. It was a complete disaster.

  I kept dreaming of home. I thought of the prospect of being able to return home, and a small hope sparked in me. I kept emailing my mother frequently, telling her how much I hated being there and how much I cried all the time. I told her that if she would give me one more chance and enable me to come home, I will try harder to lead a better life and become a person she could be proud of. After a week of doing this, mother gave in and flew to Morocco to take me home. I won. I was going home.

  When I returned to the U.S., I felt so relieved that I forgot about my troubles for a few days and relaxed. It was good to be back home. This is where my fight is, right here in the U.S., and nowhere else.

  The sense of elation I felt soon wore off. My lonely life as a social outcast resumed.

  I continued going on my usual long walks every day, feeling angry and hateful towards the world.

  During mother’s week, I would walk to the mall and sit on the balcony overlooking the food court next to the AMC theatres. There I would see all of the young couples lining up to see a movie, and I boiled with hatred. During father’s week, I walked to the Calabasas Commons nearby, and sometimes I rode my bicycle. I also walked up the hill near my father’s house to the Overlook. I spent a lot of time up there, contemplating about my life and fantasizing about becoming powerful enough to punish everyone I hate.

  On one dreadful day, when I was riding my bicycle near Calabasas, a group of popular teenagers in an SUV drove by and made fun of me. I suppose my appearance didn’t help with that. I looked exactly like the outcast I was. I was still wearing plain polo shirts and khaki pants at the time, covered with a blue zip up hoodie and a black baseball cap. It was a torturous experience, and the pain I felt from it never went away. All I wanted was to fit in with those popular kids who lived such pleasurable lives, but instead I was ridiculed and reviled by them. They made me feel so inferior and undesirable. I will never forget that experience. It was burned into my memory.

  My misery became harder and harder to bear, and none of my parents understood my plight. My father thought that all was well with me. How could he be so blind? He was so caught up in his failing work that he didn’t care about how my life was turning out. I cursed him for it. My father never made any effort to prepare me for facing such a cruel world. He never taught me how to attract girls. He never warned me that if I didn’t attract girls at an early age, my life would fall into a miserable pit of despair!

  Again… How could he be so blind? I asked myself constantly.

  It all came to a climax on one of the days that I walked to the Calabasas Commons. I treaded through the area with my head down, all alone, in a state of complete despair about my life. I looked around me and saw lots of young couples holding hands and groups of good looking teenage boys and girls walking together and having fun on their Saturday night out. I saw all of those teenagers enjoying their pleasurable lives together, while I was all alone. They were enjoying everything I couldn’t have. I was filled with intense anguish, and I quickly ran all the way back to father’s house with tears pouring down my cheeks. Once I got home I had a breakdown and cried for hours and hours into the night.

  Part 5

  Hope and Hopelessness

  Age 17-19

  When I woke up the next morning, I felt a bit calmer. Calmer enough to think clearly about what just happened. I couldn’t bear to have my life continue this way, so I tried to evaluate why I have had to suffer so much. I spent the whole day in calm meditation, deeply reviewing my life to see how I fell to this dark place. I concluded that I cannot just give up on having the life I want if I never try to get it. I realized that I was still only seventeen, and that there are many possibilities for me in the future. I wanted to give myself a new chance at life, despite all the odds that were against me. I wanted something to live for, something to look forward to in the future. This calm session of contemplation made me feel a lot better.

  I told my parents and my sister that I was willing to make a renewed effort to change. They seemed very happy with me. For once, in their eyes, I wasn’t being negative about life.

  I examined myself in the mirror and decided that if I want to make a fresh start, the first thing to do would be to change my appearance. I got a haircut, and then my mother and sister took me shopping at the Fallbrook mall for some new clothes. I knew nothing about fashion at the time, so I just chose
a few new jeans. I hadn’t worn jeans since I was ten years old. For the first time in many years, I started to care about how I looked again.

  I spent a few more days calming myself down. I then started to feel something that has been lost to me for a long time: Hope.

  Without hope, I just couldn’t go on any longer. I needed to feel hope. Hope for the future, hope for a better life. Upon feeling this, I realized that perhaps it is possible for me to have the things I desire; to have a great social life again, to have a girlfriend, to have sex, to have all of the pleasures I’ve desperately craved for so long. It was refreshing.

  On the 4th of July, we went to a big party at the Lemelson’s. There, I had a heavy discussion with James about my revelation and goals. He seemed very glad that I had a newfound zest for life. He admitted that he was getting very worried about me, from the way I was going. James was in a similar situation as I was. He was a virgin like me, never having much interaction with girls in his life. The two of us talked for hours about our troubles and our hopes of overcoming them. It was nice to have such a good friend like James on my side, who could understand and relate to me.

  I made a new Facebook profile (which I still use to this day) in an effort to improve my social life.

  Having been so lost in my own world for the last four years, I didn’t know much about these new social networking sites such as Facebook and Myspace. The last time I was interested in such things was when I made an AIM account, but no one used that anymore.

  Once I fired up my profile, was able to reconnect with a few friends from Topanga Elementary. I talked to Philip over Facebook, and the two of us made plans to meet up later in the summer after not seeing each other for two years.

  I also attempted to reconnect with my old friends Charlie and John Jo, remembering all of the great experiences I had with them. I managed to speak with them on the phone a couple of times, but they didn’t seem keen on meeting up, and I subsequently abandoned the effort.

  I had a quiet 18th Birthday at a restaurant with my family. Soumaya was still in Morocco, so mother and father agreed to meet for it. It was one of the few times that I had dinner with both my mother and my father since their divorce. I received some birthday cards from relatives, wishing me a great year ahead. I took a vow that day to make this new year of my life a happy one, to turn my life around and fulfill all of my desires.

  And so began a period of great yearning. A great chase, so to speak. I will chase after a hope that I built for myself, only to have that hope shattered at every turn.

  18 Years Old

  I was 18, a high school graduate, and summer was nearing its end. I had to think about continuing my education. I was eager to be as productive with my time as I could be. College represented a hope for me. I would be starting a new kind of school where there are lots of people and opportunities. I might possibly make friends, have interactions with girls, maybe even get a girlfriend! The thought filled me with enthusiasm.

  And so I enrolled at Pierce College, the first of a few colleges I would jump to in my many desperate attempts to find a desirable life. Pierce College is a large community college in Woodland Hills, not far from both my mother’s and father’s houses. When I looked through the list of classes, I saw that most of them were already full. The only class I was able to get was a computer class, and I settled with that. I could always spend time at the college even while not in class, I concluded. Having only one class would help me ease into college at a milder pace. I hadn’t been in a normal school system for three years. I feared I might get nervous. But then, after thinking about everything I had been through in the last few months, I knew I had the strength and courage to tackle it.

  My mother made the decision to move to a new apartment near Calabasas. She took me and my sister there to show it to us beforehand. The room that I would get would be smaller, and it wouldn’t have its own bathroom, but the apartment was located in a much better area. It was walking distance from my father’s house, the Mulholland shopping center, and the Calabasas Commons. I ended up persuading my mother to move there, as it would be much more convenient.

  On the first day at the new place, I took a long stroll around the nearby areas. Of course, those areas weren’t unfamiliar to me, as I had walked around there many times during father’s week. But this was the first time I went on a long walk since my breakdown, and it made me feel more confident.

  I met up with Philip Bloeser after not seeing him for two years. The last time I saw him was during the summer I turned 16. My mother dropped me off at this house, and I wasn’t surprised to find that he was still the exact same person; mature, reserved, a little awkward, and prone to random bouts of hyper energy. Jeffrey was also there, and he was still as wild and boisterous as ever, though he had changed a lot in appearance, no longer being the little kid I was so used to seeing him as.

  Philip already had his driver’s license, so the two of us went out in his car to meet Addison Altendorf, who had just moved back to the U.S. and was living with his mother in an apartment in Malibu. Philip and Addison have always been very close friends with each other, and the two of them go everywhere together. I hadn’t seen Addison since Topanga Elementary. At first glance, I didn’t know what to make of him. It was like meeting a whole new person. He had changed tremendously. With his mustache and hairstyle, he looked older than he was, cultivating a refined and sophisticated personality and wearing an elegant blazer coat.

  As I spent time with Addison that day, I started to enjoy talking to him about politics and the world.

  He was very intelligent and more informed than other people our age.

  I bought my first Lottery ticket when I went out shopping with my mother one day. We stopped at Ralph’s where I noticed the Lottery machine. I didn’t know anything about the Lottery, so I asked my mother about it. She told me how it works and taught me how to buy a ticket. Each ticket provides a very small chance of winning millions of dollars, and the jackpot could rise to the hundreds of millions. I couldn’t believe it. I didn’t know such a thing existed! After buying my ticket, I felt thrilled with the prospect of having a chance to become a multi-millionaire. That ticket, of course, didn’t win. And neither would any of the tickets I buy after it, but they would give me hope.

  I never thought nor cared about money before I turned 18, because I was still living like a child, with my parents handling the money and giving me the things I needed. However, the more older I grew, the more I realized how important money was, and the more obsessed I would become about getting rich.

  This obsession, which was barely taking root at the time, sparked a long relationship the Lottery that would only end in disappointment and despair.

  At father’s house, we watched the movie Alpha Dog after dinner one night. This movie depicts a lot of teenagers and young people partying and having sex with beautiful girls, living the life that I’ve desired for so long. The main character is a fifteen year old kid who has sex with two hot girls in a swimming pool. I was so envious that I delighted in his death at the end. I remember thinking that I would rather live his life than mine, even though he died. He had sex and I didn’t. The movie deeply affected me emotionally, and I would think about it for some time afterwards.

  I started my new semester at Pierce College. I still hadn’t obtained my driver’s license yet, so I was forced to take the public bus to school. This was an extremely unpleasant experience, but I was willing to bear with it just so I could go to college and improve my life.

  On my first day, I couldn’t help but feel nervous. The place reminded me of Taft, though the people seemed nicer and the environment was less intimidating. When I settled down into my class, I felt that things will turn out ok.

  Soumaya returned from Morocco, and she was very angry with me due to the way I acted while I was there. She effectively kicked me out of father’s house, and because I was eighteen, she was allowed to.

  Father didn’t do anything to stop her, being the we
ak man that he is. This is how it has always been.

  Father has always given Soumaya free reign to impose her rules on the household. He gave her all the power.

  This act officially ended the one week-one week arrangement, and mother’s house became my permanent living place.

  Not only did she kick me out of father’s house, but she forbade me to go there even for a short visit.

  And still, father didn’t do anything about it. Father kept saying that the house is her house as much as his, and that she has the right to kick me out. No! I am the eldest son! The house should be MY house before hers! This caused any respect I still had for my father to fade away completely. It was such a betrayal, to put his second wife before his eldest son. What kind of father would do that? The bitch must be really good to him in bed, I figured. What a weak man.

  Every day, I tried to make some effort to go out looking for ways to improve my life. I felt that staying in my room was a waste of time. I knew what I wanted, but I had no idea how to get it. I frequently went on walks around my mother’s neighborhood in the desperate hope that someone would befriend me or a girl would talk to me. Nothing of the sort ever happened.

  Sometimes I walked all the way up to the Overlook, as my mother’s apartment was just around the other side of it; And sometimes I walked to the Calabasas Commons, where I would hang out at Barnes & Noble, reading books, always with the hope that some young people would reach out and befriend me, but no one ever did.

  I kept hoping and hoping and hoping. Hope is what kept me alive.

  I continued seeing Philip and Addison, my only other social interaction besides James. I talked to Addison about my old political views, debating with him about what an ideal world would look like. I found out that he had some fascist views of his own, and it was nice to have a discussion with someone about things that would make most normal people run a mile.

  I frequently messaged Addison on Facebook, hoping to start up conversations when I felt lonely. He told me he was just starting his Twelfth Grade year at Malibu High School, and his goal was to fit in with the popular kids. Fitting in with popular kids at Malibu High School? I didn’t expect Addison to be successful in such a venture.