By Scott Wilson
Word Count: 869

I remember High School like it was only yesterday. Catching the bus from Harbour Town to The Plaza, then walking to Dinsdale State High was a daily ritual for me for five years of my teenage life.

It wasn't that bad. My trusty Walkman kept me company on both the bus trip and the fifteen minute walk. Come to think of it, my trusty Walkman kept me company for most of my life back then. Being shy has its drawbacks. While not gaining any unwanted attention from any bullies, you also don't gain the attention of any of the girls you like either.

I used to work out every day and jog 10 kilometres, usually past the address of the girl I had a crush on at that particular time. Even though I was super fit and had a six pack, my self esteem and self confidence was none existent. Playing soccer for the state rugby union team didn’t boost my self confidence, nor did trying hard to get good grades at school. Even when I got top of the school for science, I still didn’t feel like I had any worth.

Depression is such a bastard of a disease. Especially when no one wants to acknowledge that you have it. It is far easier to ignore the signs and hope that it doesn’t really exist. I first remember being aware of having depression when I was twelve years old, during the last year of primary school. That’s when my parents died in a car crash. I was put into foster care with a couple of lousy bums that never showed me any love at all. Don’t know why they ever wanted a child, they never spent any time with me or told me they loved me.

All I ever wanted was to be loved or have someone tell me that they loved me, gave me a hug or a kiss. It is such a lonely world when you are around people all of the time but always alone. I suppose that is how other serial killers start off their path down a road that leads to more pain and despair. Rejected from society, wanting to be accepted but never quite fitting in, is it their fault or not?

I eventually wound up in a relationship with someone and had a son after only a year of living together. You would have thought that that would have sorted things out for me but it only seemed to make things worse. She was a heavy drug user and often abused me. Then again if she wasn’t off her face the day we met then I probably wouldn’t have even met someone.

I thought all my Christmases had come at once when this attractive woman with eyes of bright azure started talking to me at Transformers nightclub on a Tuesday night. Drinking by yourself on a week night was usually a pretty lonely and uneventful past time. Most of the time the bars were nearly empty, apart from other lonely souls who were trying to find solace at the bottom of a glass. On a Friday and Saturday night you knew that the chances of meeting someone were a lot higher due to the increased number of people out partying. Not that I ever met anyone in the three years of regular pub crawling every night of the week.

After we had a son our de facto relationship lasted another couple of months before she left me. I have no idea where she went or how I would ever be able to visit my son again. She didn’t tell me she was going to leave me, no phone call, no message and no idea why she left me. We never had any fights and as far as I knew everything was going well. Then again, I had never been in any sort of relationship before so what would I know.

That’s when I started keeping “the list”.

Everyone who ever added to the deterioration of my mental health in any way had scored a point on a tally sheet that should never have started. Past employers, neighbours, sales people who ripped me off and the wanker from high school that made it a goal to try and pick a fight with me just about every week, all made my life hell and deserve to be punished. I just got fed up with being pushed around and never getting anywhere in life. You always get passed over for promotions if you are quiet and introverted. You can’t meet anyone if you are too shy to start a conversation with new people.

I made a choice, or more a choice was made for me. If no one was going to love me, then I was going to hate everyone as much as I felt they hated me.