Please Don’t Save Me: My Soul Belongs To Satan, Not Your God.

I was prompted to tell the fascinating tale of how I sold my soul to Satan in high school. However since I have a problem with phone games I had to wait to run out of lives before I could write this. I don’t understand why humans will waste real money on phone games, if you just wait the lives will fill back up! Or you can do what I do download a bunch of free games to pass the time. Such as solitaire. I’m addicted to solitaire. However there’s worse things I could be addicted to, like drugs. Which got me thinking…I’m addicted to my medications…does that mean I’m addicted to drugs?! When I go off my medication (I’ve done so multiple times..first couple of times because I was curious what would happen) I turn into a psycho bitch, and delete friends of Facebook, because I don’t feel like a deserve friends for all the dark, morbid thoughts that I have. A bunch of my friends on Facebook have been deleted off, friend requested, deleted off, friend requested, and so on. However since I’m addicted to drugs I haven’t gone all psycho bitch, or deleted friends!…wait I lied, I deleted humans..but I haven’t requested them back so…..

On to the main part of this post!

Lights dim, curtain goes up it’s Story Time.

Backstory:

I was an Emo, crazy freshman in high school. Emo in the sense of “what goes on in mind not how I dressed.” (Actual phrase I would tell humans) My brother had graduated the year before I was enrolled in SBHS, he was one of the popular kids, whereas I was a problem kid, who lashed out all the time. (Sensory overload wasn’t diagnosed until years later..I’m on that Autism spectrum yo) Anyway all the freshman had to be in these peer groups called SLAM. I have no idea what it stood for, but for 15-20 minutes once a week groups of 10 freshman would meet up with 4 upperclassmen and a faculty member.

When I said my name during introductions, one of the upperclassmen was really excited to find out that I was my brother’s younger sister. I remember being extremely pissed off, she wasn’t happy to meet me, she was happy that I was related to my recently graduated popular brother.

One of peers in my SLAM group included Bryan Carparts (a kid who harassed me in middle school and for the rest of high school, not his real name but I wrote a story in English class about a Bryan Carparts who I died a horrific death..everyone knew who I was talking about)

It was right after midterms the following Monday, when one of the upperclassmen told us we should go around the room saying how midterms went as well as our weekend. I was last in the update, which gave me enough time to plan out what I would say. I noticed that Bryan Carparts was absent. (To those that claim I don’t have a filter, I do. I just say what I think is appropriate. Turns out a bunch of times most humans don’t agree with my logic)

“And Keely, how did your midterms and weekend go?”
“I’m pretty sure I bombed my midterms, I studied, but past research has shown that studying doesn’t help me so it’s whatever. This past weekend however was pretty great.”
“Oh? What happened?”
“I sold my soul to Satan to become a vampire.”
“Ummmm-”
“This is what I did. I laid down on my bed, said some chants, then took a sharp knife and ran the blade down my chest. Blood came seeping out, but I continued my chants, while I put my hand inside my chest to pull out my heart. Satan appeared soon, I told him that I want to trade my soul to him in order to become a vampire. He did his Devil magic before telling me I must kill someone so the deed will be sealed. I’m sensitive to the light, but the deed is done…which is why you will notice someone isn’t here today….”
“Keely I would like to see you in my office.” The faculty member told me. Turns out she was the head of the guidance department.
“Keely I don’t take suicide lightly.”
“It’s not suicide, it’s sacrifice.”
I don’t remember what she said next, probably gave me a warning.

The next week I brought in a water bottle filled with Fruit Punch Kool-Aid claiming I was drinking the blood of an innocent.

The week after I tried to convince a friend to claw on the door frame holding her neck with ketchup smeared over her hands and neck saying “That bitch bit me!” She didn’t do this, I was very disappointed in her.

I guess this was too much for everybody so I was moved into a different SLAM group. However I had one of my peers from my previous SLAM group come tell me how a bunch of students thought I actually killed Bryan Carparts. He was late that morning.

Looking back I would do all that over again. I was harassed through out middle school and high school so having my peers think I killed someone who was causing me so much pain, made me feel not only strong but also powerful. He still continued to harass me when we passed each other in the halls, but telling a group of peers in high school that I sold my soul to Satan to become a vampire is one of those happy memories I look back on and smile.

~SirChangeling

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