My little brother fucking died

3 .50 Cal AE at the back of his skull. Little shit fucking deserved it. I didn’t feel shit when I pulled the trigger, but as soon as his dead body dropped on the floor, I was fucking ecstatic. Ever since he was three, he’s been getting away with shit that I would have been kicked out of the house for, like drawing shitty doodles on my room’s door or cut of the electricity for the entire house except his room. I always knew he was going to turn out a sociopathic, spoiled, little brat. Hell, he already was by the age of three. I would write this on my journal, but I want all of you to know that I did nothing wrong whenever you see the report of my brother’s murder on Fox, CNN or whatever.

Years of being ignored by my parents in favor of that little shit has broken me mentally. Truth be told, I was terrified of him. Not only that, I was terrified of my own sanity. Everyone else seemed to think he was such an angel who ‘pulled little pranks on people’. He would always defend his actions by refering to his age. “Im onwy twee”, “Im onwy fow” “Im onwy fwife”. Shit went on and on for years. I couldn’t take it anymore.

Right now I’m fleeing the town of Plainview. I’m hiding in the forest, but I’ll have to move soon before local law enforcement tracks me down. Maybe I’ll take one of them down and boost his car. After that, I don’t know where I’ll go. I could go South to Texas, New Mexico or Tenessee. Canada and Mexico are off limits, borders are too risky, besides, I left my passport. Definately not staying anywhere near New England though. Only sad thing about this is I won’t ever get to see my friend Rowley ever again. Eh, I didn’t really like him anyway.

If you are reading this from hell, fuck you Manny.

-Greg Heffley