"You're right. I'm a terrible person. Shoot me why dontcha?"

You know what I hear over and over again from just about everybody? "You're such a nice person. In fact you're too nice." I'd like to believe these people, and sometimes I actually do, but I know better than that. I know that really, through this crusyt body of mine, I'm a monster. I was sitting in a car with one of my best friends when I splattered off this quote. I like to joke around and pick on people and so does he. Something got brought up about something nice that I did and I said this. He couldn't stop laughing. It's funny to watch him laugh. He starts cringing and rolling up into a ball and his mouth becomes a colossal size and I can't help but grin back at him.

It's this same friend that I proved that I am a monster to. This morning I was being a joking guy again and I was picking on the people in my sunday school group. I went a little far though ended up saying something pretty terrible. We're a pretty sarcarstic bunch of kids in our group, and I guess I just got in that mood of sarcasm but said somthing that went a bit over the edge.

I had to sit there for the rest of the hour and watch him cringing again. This time it was for a different reason. This time I had to watch him go through torture, pain, emotioanl catastrophe, because I was a jerk. And what's worse is that I didn't exactly own up to my faults right away.

Afterwards I was worried about him because of his episode during sunday school and so I wanted to make sure he was alright and to make sure that it was me that caused him the pain. It took a lot of waiting around for him to finally get up after the session but he darted off to the bathroom. "Great," I thought to myself sarcastically. "Now he's runnning from me."

He came out eventually and I was busy catching up with a friend I hadn't seen in a while. He tried to sneak past me, but I was too quick. I grabbed him and told him to follow me.

That's when we went into the sanctuary and it was confirmed. I am a monster.

"What's wrong?" I asked. "You made me feel bad," he responded. My stomach dropped. That's where it all went down again. I had to watch him rush feelings of sorrow at me, and I WAS THE CAUSE OF IT. And that's where this saying almost comes true.

The only times I have ever even slightly felt suicidal in my life is when I know I've hurt someone. And to know that I hurt someone that I love a lot, kills me even more. Those are the times when I wished that I could just shoot myself, drink some poison, or break my arms, and it would all be better. But it won't be better. In fact, it would only make things worse. So now I sit with my own punishment, the wish for death, and torture of guilt. Sorrow. It's the life of a monster.

(P.S. I don't want a lot of responses or mailings or anything talking about how I shouldn't kill myself. Everyone should know that I would never do such a thing and I'm just expressing the way I feel to you. Please don't bug me about that.)