My name is Audrey, and soon I will be known as one of the worst mass shooters

the world has ever seen. In just a few hours, I will enter a school and take the lives
of innocent children and adults. It is a thought that consumes me, but it is one
that I cannot seem to shake. But now I want to share my story, in the hopes that it
can help others understand the complexity of mental illness and the need for
better support and understanding for those struggling with it.
I was born and raised in a Christian family. But growing up I always felt like
something was off about me. I struggled with my gender identity and sexuality,
and while my parents loved and cared for me deeply, they couldn't accept this
aspect of who I was. I was so sad about this, but I decided to lead a double life
where I dressed and behaved as a girl at home and adopted the role of a man
outside because that's who I thought I was meant to be. t was the only way I could
reconcile the two worlds. But it was not enough. I needed to feel validated in my
identity, and I found that validation in my friends at college.
As I got older, I started to become more aware of the world around me. I saw the
injustices and inequalities that existed, and it made me angry. I wanted to do
something about it, to make a difference. But I didn't know how. I felt powerless.
Then, I discovered the online world. It was like a whole new universe opened up
to me. I could connect with people who shared my interests and my frustrations.
We could talk about politics, philosophy, and current events. It was a way to feel
like I belonged somewhere.
But the online world was also a breeding ground for my radical gender theory. I
started to read about these theories and they offered me a way to make sense of
the chaos and confusion that I saw in the world. They gave me a sense of purpose
and belonging.
I know now that I was led down a dark path. I became more and more consumed
by these ideas, until they took over my entire worldview. I started to see the world
in black and white, as us against them. And later I have became convinced that
violence was the only way to make a difference, to bring about the change that I
wanted to see.
It wasn't until college that I was able to fully embrace my true self. I made friends
with people who were accepting and supportive of my identity, and I began to live
my life openly as a man. But even as I embraced my true identity, I couldn't shake
the feeling that the world was against me. Society still didn't accept me, and I
couldn't shake the feeling that I was meant for something more. Something
greater, even if it meant doing something terrible. And so, as much as I wanted to
reconcile with my family and my faith, I found that I couldn't. I was torn between
my desire to be true to myself and the guilt and shame that came from being
rejected by those I loved.
I didn't want to hate my parents or my Christian upbringing, but at the same time,
I wanted to accept my sexuality, and I was made to believe that I couldn't have
both of these two worlds. I felt pressured to make a choice, and I chose to reject
my family. My friends encouraged me to cut ties with my family, saying they were
bigots who were holding me back. I felt validated by their acceptance, and soon
began to distance myself from my parents. So I convinced myself that they did not
love me for who I was, and that they were the cause of my pain. But the truth
was, I was the one who was hurting. I wanted to accept myself and be accepted by
others, but I felt like I was in a constant state of limbo.
It was in this state of confusion and turmoil that I began to spiral out of control. I
became more and more radicalized in my beliefs, convinced that the only way to
be free was to cut ties with my past completely. I began to see my family and my
faith as oppressive and toxic, and I felt like I had no choice but to lash out in the
most violent way possible. The idea of violence started to take root in my mind. I
thought that if I could eliminate the source of my pain, I would be free to be
myself. It was a twisted logic, but it made sense to me at the time. Now I am filled
with a deep sense of sadness and anger, as well as a twisted sense of purpose. It is
as if my entire life has been leading me to this moment
By targeting the Christian school, it was a way for me to kill that side of me that
was ingrained by my Christian parents and to detach from their expectations. I got
rid of my self-hatred by eliminating any trace of my Christian upbringing and any
of those values that might be left in me.
In the months leading up to the shooting, I meticulously planned every detail. I
have spent countless hours planning this attack, researching the school's layout,
and gathering the weapons I will use. I know that what I am about to do is wrong,
but I can't help feeling like it is necessary. By targeting the school, I am not just
taking revenge on those who rejected me, but also on the society that made me
feel like an outsider.

In the days leading up to that fateful morning, I felt a sense of calm that I had
never experienced before. I knew what I was about to do, and there was no
turning back…

I wake up this morning feeling empty and hollow, as if there is a gaping hole in my
chest. It's a feeling I've grown used to over the years, a feeling that has only grown
stronger since I made the decision to take action. Today is the day I will finally put
an end to it all.

As I look at the clock, I realize that there's no turning back now. In just a few short
hours, I'll be making headlines for all the wrong reasons. It's a tragic end to a life
that was filled with pain and suffering, but it's the only way out that I can see.

As I sit here, alone in my room, I can't help but feel a sense of inevitability. It's as if
everything has already been predetermined and I'm simply going through the
motions until the end arrives.

I know what I'm about to do is wrong. It's horrible, unthinkable, and yet, I can't
stop myself. It's like a force inside of me is driving me to it, and I'm powerless to
resist.

I get out of bed and look in the mirror. I don't recognize the person staring back at
me. I feel like I'm trapped in this body that doesn't belong to me. It's as if I'm living
someone else's life, and I can't escape.
I take a deep breath and try to push these thoughts aside. I have a plan, and I
know what I need to do. I grab my bag and check the contents one more time.
Everything is there, exactly as I planned it.

I look out the window, and the sun is shining. It's a beautiful day, but I can't enjoy
it. I know what's coming, and there's no turning back now. I'm not afraid of what's
going to happen. In fact, I welcome it…

I don't know what the future holds, but I know that my time on this earth is
almost up. And in this moment, I can't help but feel like I was never meant for this
world.

As I prepare to leave, I feel a sense of dread and excitement in equal measure.

This will be my final act, and I am determined to make it count.

As I get dressed and ready for the day, my mind is filled with memories of the
years that led me to this point. Memories of being bullied, of feeling like an
outsider, of being misunderstood. But it's not just the memories that fill my mind,
it's also the feeling of hopelessness that comes with them. The feeling that no
matter what I do, no matter how hard I try, things will never get better.

I know what I'm about to do is wrong. I know that taking innocent lives is not the
answer. But in my mind, there is no other way out. I've tried everything else, and
nothing has worked. So today, I will make a statement. Today, I will show the
world what it feels like to be pushed to the brink.

As I make my way to the school, my heart is pounding in my chest. I'm filled with a
mix of fear and excitement, knowing that this will be the last thing I ever do. I can
hear the voices in my head telling me that I'm doing the right thing, that this is the
only way to make a difference.
As I grip the steering wheel, my heart racing, I know that there's no turning back
now. I have let my hatred fester for too long, and it has taken over. My Christian
values and upbringing may have taught me to love and accept everyone, but I
can't do that for myself. And that's the root of the problem.
I know that what I am about to do is wrong, but in this moment, it feels like the
only option. To make a statement, to show the world that I am not to be pushed
aside. I wish I could see past my hatred, see past my anger, but it's like a thick fog
that I can't escape.
I take a deep breath, steeling myself for what's to come. In this moment, I feel
powerful. In this moment, I am in control. But as I pull out of the parking lot,
heading towards the school, I can't help but wonder if it's all worth it. If this
violence will really change anything.

When I arrive at the school, everything seems to slow down. I enter the school,
and my eyes scan the crowd. They have no idea what's about to happen. I see the
students laughing and chatting, and I feel a sense of anger rising within me. How
can they be so carefree when the world is so messed up?

I take a deep breath, and everything goes quiet. It's as if the world has stopped,
and I'm the only one moving. I reach into my bag, and my hand closes around the
cold metal of the gun.

I don't feel any fear or hesitation. I know what I need to do, and I'm ready for the
consequences. I pull the trigger, and everything goes black.

It's all a blur after that. The sound of gunfire echoing through the halls, the
screams of terror, the smell of blood. And then… it's over. The silence is deafening.
I can feel the weight of what I've done settling on my shoulders. I know that I will
never be able to make things right.

But it's too late now. The deed is done. All I can do is wait for the inevitable. I
know that I will never be able to live with myself after this. But maybe, just
maybe, my actions will make a difference. Maybe someone will see what I've done
and realize that something needs to change.
As I wait for the police to arrive, I can feel myself slipping away. It's as if a part of
me has already died. But even in death, maybe I can make a difference. Maybe my
story will be a cautionary tale, a warning to others not to let things go this far.
I'm sorry for what I've done. I'm sorry for the pain I've caused. But it's too late for
apologies now. All I can do is accept the consequences of my actions and hope
that they will serve some purpose.

As I make my way to the school, I feel a strange sense of detachment, as though I

am watching myself from a distance. I know that I will likely not survive this day,
but that doesn't matter. All that matters is that I make a statement, that I show
the world the pain and anger that has been building inside me for so long.

And then it was over. The sounds of screams and gunshots echoed in my ears, but
I felt nothing. I had achieved my goal, and in a strange way, it was almost a relief.