My Twisted World

by Elliot Rodger

  I tried to insult him as much as I could, telling him how superior I am to him, and saying that he was low-class. He tried to attack me, but Ryan, being the more mellow of the two, held him back. A pity, I was itching for a chance to hurt that obnoxious little animal. Though I suppose it was for the best… My life was too important to risk doing anything rash.

  In a panic, I immediately called my mother as soon as I could and told her of the dire situation. There was no way I could live with those two imbeciles for the whole college year. They already ruined my weekend. My mother agreed that I needed to get out of there, so I went to the leasing office and explained to the manager everything that happened. He told me that there was another room available for me to transfer to, but it would cost one hundred more dollars a month, because it was a larger two bedroom unit and I would only be sharing it with one housemate, who would occupy the other room. I called my mother and she gave me permission to go through with it. I signed the new lease, arranging to transfer when the room became available in September. I would have to bear living with them for the rest of the month until then.

  To help get through the month, my mother let me come home every weekend until I was able to transfer to the new apartment. I would only stay in Santa Barbara during the weekdays, but on those weekdays Angel and Ryan went out of their way to make my life a living hell. Every time they went out they kept yelling to me how they’re going to sleep with hot girls that night. I knew they were just lying to make me jealous. They always made fun of me for being a virgin. At night, they frequently made noise to wake me up. I was literally being bullied, and it was truly horrific. I wanted to kill them both, but of course I was smart enough not to go through with that desire. All I could do was remember every single insult, so I can get revenge in a more efficient way in the future. That is who I am. I don’t act stupidly or rashly. I remember every insult, and I wait until the time is right to strike. When that time comes, I will crush all of my enemies in the most devastating and catastrophic way possible, and the results will be beautiful.

  On one of the weekends in which I went home during August, my mother moved out of the Versailles apartment complex, and moved into the Summit Townhomes, near Warner Center. It was an abrupt decision to move there. I helped her pack everything and watched as the movers transported all of our belongings to the new place. The Summit was much nicer looking than her old apartment; I’ll say that for it. It was a townhome with an upstairs room that I would occupy whenever I visit home.

  I was glad that she moved to a better place, but I would have much rather she got married to a wealthy man and moved into his mansion. Even though she was no longer seeing Jack, she dated other men of high class. She had a special way of charming them. I continued to pester her to get married so that I can be part of an upper class family and enjoy all the benefits that would come with that, but she always refused, claiming that she never wants to get married due to her unpleasant experiences with my father. I told her that she should suffer through any negative aspects of marriage just for my sake, because it would completely save my life, but she still refused.

  I went over to James’s house during my visit home. The two of us chatted online a lot, and when I told him that I was in town, he seemed eager to see me. I was eager to see him too, as he was my closest friend and I had a lot to talk to him about. I drove up Topanga Canyon to his house, not knowing that it will be the last time I ever visit him.

  The two of us did what we usually did. We walked out to the Palisade’s Bluff’s where we discussed our hopes and dreams. We then went to the Palisades town center to have dinner. This time we chose to eat at Panda Express. While we were eating, some high school kids walked in. James saw them first, and right when he saw them he said the words “We’re fucked”. James knew I would have trouble with them. They were popular boys who had a flock of pretty girls with them. One of them sat down with two of the girls, putting his leg up on another chair with a cocky smirk on his face. I was livid with rage, and I wanted to pour my drink all over his head. James knew exactly what I was planning to do; we had been through similar incidents before. He made a lot of effort to try to dissuade me from acting on my anger, pointing out that there was a security guard nearby. I did the only other thing I could do; I packed up my dinner and left the restaurant, fleeing in defeat and shame. James soon followed, and we decided to finish our meal at his house.

  A dark and ominous aura clouded over our friendship that day. When the two of us got back to James’s house, I was still seething with rage. I didn’t understand why James wasn’t angry like me. The sight that we just witnessed was horrible to watch. To see another male be successful with females is torture for males like us who have no success with females. I was so angry that I told James of all of the acts of revenge I wanted to exact on those popular boys. I told him my desire to flay them alive, to strip the skins off their flesh and make them scream in agony as punishment for living a better life than me.

  James became deeply disturbed by my anger. I wished that he wasn’t disturbed. I wished he could be a friend that felt the same way about the world that I did. But he wasn’t that kind of person. He was a weakling.

  Once I had calmed down, the two of us had a long conversation in his room, and I ended up crying in front of him as I explained how hopeless I felt about life. Soon after that, I left his house, never to return there again. He will never invite me over after that incident, and our friendship will slowly fade to dust.

  During the last few days that I had to endure living with those barbaric housemates, I often walked out to Isla Vista hoping that I could meet a girl and take her home with me. I wanted to prove to them all that girls liked me, to see the look on their faces when they see a girl by my side. But of course, I had nothing to prove because girls didn’t like me. Every time I tried to go out and meet a girl, I ended up walking home alone in anger. On one of these nights, I crossed paths with a boy who was walking with two pretty girls. I got so envious that I cursed at them, and then I followed them for a few minutes. They just laughed at me, and one of the girls kissed the boy on the lips. I’m assuming she was his girlfriend.

  That was one of the worst experiences of torture from girls that I’ve had to endure, and it will be a scar in my memory forever, to remind me that girls think I’m unworthy compared to other boys. I ran home with tears pouring down my cheeks, hoping that my horrible housemates wouldn’t be there to witness my shame.

  I tried to spark a positive attitude on the first day of my Autumn semester at Santa Barbara City College. I was registered for three classes; history, astronomy, and math. My history and astronomy classes were in the morning, and my math class was late in the afternoon, so on school days I had to spend the entire day at the college. I figured this would be beneficial, because it would keep me out of my room and in a place where possible opportunities might come my way. I had to wait a couple of hours before my math class started, and I spent those hours roaming around the college or sitting in the library, looking at all of the hot girls and wishing I could have one as a girlfriend. I was like a starving man surrounded by a feast that I was prohibited to eat.

  All of my classes left me feeling hopeless and depressed. Not only was I unable to meet any girls, and there were a lot of pretty ones, but I also had a hard time making any friends. I’ve always had a hard time making friends… I’m not the type of person that can fit in with a group of outgoing people; the last time I did such a thing was when I was twelve. I had to make friends. Having a social circle will provide me with more opportunities to meet girls, and it was the only way to get invited to all of those exciting college parties. But no one even wanted to be my friend. I actually tried to initiate small talk with guys who sat next to me, but it never went far. I had a horrible feeling that I was in for a very miserable time in Santa Barbara.

  I did make one friend through spending time in my apartment’s courtyard. This friend’s name was Andy Chan; he was a foreign student from C
hina. Andy shared the same eagerness as I did to experience college life in Isla Vista to the fullest; and unlike most people my age, I found him to have some intelligence and substance. The two of us walked out to Del Playa Street in Isla Vista a few times, the place where all the parties happen, but nothing ever came of it. I still felt like an outcast, even though I had a friend with me; and I still felt inferior compared to all of those guys who walked around with beautiful girls.

  On September 5th, I was finally able to move into my new permanent apartment unit. I felt relieved that I would never have to deal with the likes of Ryan and Angel ever again, though I did worry that I will eventually run into them again because my new unit was still in the same apartment complex. Once I was given the keys, I quickly transported all of my belongings to the new place. I was supposed to have only one housemate who would live in the other room of the unit, but he hadn’t moved in yet. I had no idea who my new housemate would be, but I was told that he was an older student who attended the University. That knowledge made me feel assured that he would be tolerable to live with. He was set to arrive in two weeks, so I had the place to myself until then.

  I unpacked all of my things and set up my new room. Once I was done, I looked at it and thought to myself that this was it; this was my new living place in the college town of Isla Vista, and if I could finally have the life I wanted, then this may well be the room where I lose my virginity! How wrong I was. It would only be another room where I suffer miserable loneliness. No girl will ever step foot in it.

  Santa Barbara was not going well for me. I was already months into my twentieth year and I had nothing to show for it. As I spent the first weeks of September in my new room, all alone, I fully realized how much I was failing at life. Santa Barbara was supposed to be a place of hope, a place where I could start a new, happy life. I couldn’t believe how wrong everything was turning out. Instead of finally getting a chance to live a life of sex and love like other young people did, I only experienced worse rejection and humiliation than I had ever experienced before. This was unbelievable and unforgivable. If humanity continued to insult me with such cruelty, then there really was no hope for happiness in my life.

  At Santa Barbara City College, I had exactly the same experience that I had at Moorpark. I had to watch beautiful young people enjoying their lives together as I languished in loneliness and despair, because no one accepted me. I dropped my math class – I just couldn’t bear having to be at the college all day long, sitting in the library watching couples kiss each other. I retained my two morning classes only because there was still some small inkling of desperate home inside me.

  My usual day went as follows: I woke up alone in my bed, with no girl beside me, and did a few minutes of exercise before I showered and got ready for college; I then drove to Starbucks to have my morning latte and felt envious whenever I saw a young couple there; I would then attend my two classes where no one said a word to me, having to endure the torment of watching other guys talking to the girls I liked; And then I would go home alone, open the door to my lonely room, and feel absolutely miserable. The loneliness was suffocating. I could barely breathe. If only one pretty girl had at least given me a chance and tried to get to know me, everything would have turned out differently, but girls continued to treat me with disdain.

  The loneliness was torturing me so intensely that I even started up my WoW account and played the game constantly for the month of September. James still played WoW, and the two of us played together online for a few days, but he treated me very coldly the whole time. I could tell that the kind of friendship we had for so many years no longer existed. That last incident in the Palisades stabbed our friendship deeply, and it was in the process of bleeding away. At the time, I felt offended by his attitude towards me, so I called him out on it. This sparked a long argument between us that resulted in James refusing to talk to me online anymore. A few days after that, I deactivated my account again.

  My new housemate arrived in the middle of September. His name was Spencer Horowitz; a short, chubby UCSB student who was about a year older than me. He seemed like a friendly, mature sort of person; definitely a pleasant contrast from the housemates I had to suffer through in the previous month. I didn’t expect to have any problems with him. However, I was a disappointed due to the fact that I was hoping my new housemate would be someone I could relate to… someone who could be my friend and help me integrate with the social life in Santa Barbara. I didn’t see Spencer as the type of person I would become friends with. We could get along, but we had nothing in common.

  In addition, I was a bit shocked when Spencer told me that he used to have a girlfriend. It was a casual comment that came out of a conversation we had. I didn’t understand how a chubby and unattractive guy like Spencer would have been able to get a girlfriend, while I’ve never had the chance to. The guy was three inches shorter than me, and even I am considered short for my age. I could not fathom how such a thing was possible, and I concluded to myself that this former “girlfriend” of his that he mentioned must have been just as unattractive as he was. There was no need for me to be jealous.

  After a few weeks of living with him, I realized that I had a psychological problem with his presence in my apartment. Even though there was no trouble between us, I hated having someone constantly in my vicinity to judge how pathetic my life was. I could hide the details of my lonely, celibate life from the rest of the world, but I could not hide it from Spencer. The fact that I never had any girls over to my room was clear enough that I was an undesirable outcast, and I hated it when people knew this about me and judged me for it. Spencer was there to witness it all, and I would eventually come to hate him just because of that.

  During the months of October and November, I made another desperate bid to improve my social life as best as I could. I failed in making any friends in my two college classes, and I didn’t have any interactions with girls at my school. I was an invisible ghost, just like I had always been.

  I continued to see Andy, the one friend that I made. We often met up to have dinner at a restaurant somewhere. He soon introduced me to a few friends of his. One of them was named Stan, a European from Holland whom I particularly got along with. I enjoyed having conversations with Stan about a wide variety of subjects, including politics, history, business, and architecture. I wisely refrained from revealing any of my political views, of which disturbed most people.

  During the month of October I went out with Andy, Stan, and some of their friends quite often. We did things like walk around State Street or Isla Vista, or went to the movie theatres together. I soon found that even having these few acquaintances to hang out with didn’t make me feel any better. I still felt inferior whenever I saw other guys walking with beautiful girls. At the movie theatres, I felt just as pathetic about walking in there with a group of friends as I did years ago when I went to the movies with my parents… It was that pathetic feeling of not having a hot girlfriend on my arm while some other boys in the theatre did. What I truly wanted… what I truly NEEDED, was a girlfriend. I needed a girl’s love. I needed to feel worthy as a male. For so long I have felt worthless, and it’s all girls’ fault. No girl wanted to be my girlfriend.

  Halloween weekend in the college town of Isla Vista is a renowned event. Young people pour in from all over the county to attend the raucous parties there. My experience during this weekend is just what one would have expected it to be, a miserable disaster.

  When I was a child, I used to love Halloween. It was a holiday of fun and excitement where I went trick-or-treating, going from house to house collecting candy with my friends and family. For young adults, Halloween is a very different sort of holiday, of which one is supposed to dress up in sexually explicit costumes, attend wild drinking parties, and have sexual experiences with girls. For other young people, who are able to do such things, Halloween must be a blast. But I am unable to do such things. I wasn’t invited to ANY party, and girls don’t want to have
sex with me. As a teenager and a young adult, Halloween has been a holiday of torment and depression because of this. In Isla Vista, this was greatly intensified.

  I tried my best to put myself out there on the Halloween weekend. I made many laps around Isla Vista, trying to bolster up the courage to talk to a girl or walk into a party, but I just couldn’t. I knew they would all reject me. What I saw during those walks shook me to the very core. Girls dressed up in extremely revealing outfits, and the sight of them filled my sex-starved self with hunger and desire that I knew I could never quench.

  On the last night of the Halloween weekend, I went out there with Andy and Stan and a few others. It made absolutely no difference. We didn’t get into any parties, and just walked around the streets like losers. Being friends with them wasn’t benefitting me at all.

  If only I had a beautiful girlfriend to experience such an event with! I would have even dressed up in a costume with her. It would have been so blissful and euphoric, to walk around in all of that excitement with a beautiful girl on my arm, to attend every single party because anyone would admit a beautiful girl into it, to make passionate love to her in my room at the end of the night, to snuggle next to her sexy warm body as we drift off to sleep together. THAT is the life I should have lived. So many other guys are able to experience that, and just thinking about if filled me with extreme agony. Life is not fair.

  In November, my brief friendship with Andy, Stan, and their group faded away. I often saw on Facebook that they did things together without even inviting me, which is the same thing I’ve had to experience with other groups of friends that I’ve had in the past. I was always an outcast, even among people I knew. I grew tired of their lack of consideration for me, so I stopped calling them. They weren’t even popular anyway, and I wasn’t benefitting at all from their friendship. I still continued to meet with Andy at restaurants on occasion, however.