Faces look ugly.

To whom it may concern:

If you're reading this, then you already know what has happened. When tragic acts of nature strike and there you are lost in an oblivion of silence. The world keeps going, but you don't. When God reaches down and takes what's most precious to you, it's like you've been shoved into a glass tomb. You can't really hear or see what's going on, but you're alive. You're dead on the inside, but yer still breathin'. Those souls, those poor souls who've been in that place know. But this isn't a tragedy. What happened, did so for a reason. This wasn't an act of God, or Nature. This was an act of man. A man, who having destroyed everything inside of himself and devoured all that was good in his heart; became a void. A void that hungered and desperately gobbled up anything and everything that was good. Destroying the most precious pieces of life that we are granted. Destroying true beauty.

I told myself, that it wouldn't hurt anymore if I got revenge. I lied to myself. I suppose it was because the dark part of me, the demon in all man, just wanted to have a reason to be let loose. And I guess I was pretty tired of keeping that hate and bitterness, that I had clung to, all locked up in the vault in my mind. It was when I heard his last breath leave his body that I realized the true reality of it all. There was no great realization, there was no great closure. I had done what I had done for vengance and it had failed to fill my piecered heart.

Years from now, when everyone's forgotton about all this, I will have been right. Oh, to be sure, they're never gonna admit it. Nobody ever will. People, ya see, they just aren't ready to own up to the monsters we really are. No. The cattle, the populations, they want to believe that the human heart is a good thing. That the human race is a kind and benelovant race. But we aren't.
Hell, that same population, let the man....that monster...be created in the first place.

We're the not the same as the animals. The savage beasts that roam what's left of our wildernesses, even they are better than we. We're the product of pure evil. We're not evolution, we're a goddamned nightmare. I'm not writing this for your pity or your grief. I'm writing it so that everyone will know WHY it happened.

There's no such thing as right and wrong.

Getting to him was easy. He was a sucker for food. That bastard ate like 10 times a day. Always gorging himself on whatever food was brought in to him. I always imagined him as a greedy stock pig. They'd file in and bring him his slop. The reality of it was that he loved catered food. And the studio was more than willing to pay for it. Because he brought them souls. He brought them minds to pump full of propaganda.

Once I had secured a place with the catering van it was easy. The promise of food always roused the great beast in him. In his final, sad moments, when he realized WHO I was, and how far I was willing to go...well, lets just say I didn't think he could get any lower.

I used the same gun I used on everyone else. I saved the last bullet for myself. They took everything from me. Everything. And I was a willing partner in their schemes. I deserve no less than what they all received. What he received. Ignorance is no excuse.

That last moment of his life, I can't stop reliving it. The events play out in slow motion, I place the barrel between his eyes. He starts crying, pleading with me to let him live. I thumb the hammer back, slowly, breathing evenly. He loses control of his bladder. It smells like ammonia, I chuckle a bit. He keeps begging. "You wan' a cigarette?", I ask him as I light up my own. He just keeps sobbing, saying that he didn't know, that it wasn't his fault. I take a deep, dark drag off of my cig. I let the smoke fill my lungs and I start to exhale. I give him a "last rites" of sorts.
"This happened to you because you've been poisioning minds all over the world. This happened to you because you're a monster. This happened to you because you ruined my home. But most importantly, this happened to you because you're a stupid, bumbling fuck."

I pull the trigger and everything goes red.

They'll probably give him a hero's burial. They'll take his feathered yellow carcass, and probably bury him at Arlington National. I realize this, and more after he's dead. No rush of righteousness, no welling up of emotions. Just the emptiness that had been there before.

That's when I knew, I wasn't free yet. I hadn't killed them all. Of course! I was one of them.

Once I'm finished writing this explanation, I'm going to drive that goddamned bullet right through my skull. I'm going to put right what they'd put wrong for so long.

Take this knowledge and continue the fight for what's right. Keep your children free from monsters like us.

Number One with a bullet,

Oscar.

P.S. I had to live in a motherfucking trashcan. A trashcan. What.The.Fuck?