Why is this date so familiar? well, brainiac, it could be because that was the day that 15 people died in and around the building of Columbine High School. The shooters, Dylan Klebold and Eric Harris, opened fire at 11:20 a.m.
They effectively shot and killed 13 people, 12 students and one teacher.
Of those who died that day, I knew four:
I don't need to tell you about the shit I went through because of that. It was hell, to say the least. Even now, over a year after the fact, I get harrassed by people. for that fact alone.
I was there that day. I was in the cafeteria. That's where the propane bomb was, by the way. I'm glad that they had faulty wiring and timing mechanisms, otherwise, this page wouldn't exist because I wouldn't be here to write it.
I saw the shooter on the grassy knoll. I saw death that day. He had the face of my friend.
I am not ashamed to say they were my friends, no more than I ashamed to say that Corey or Rachel were my friends. THEY WERE HUMAN BEINGS. They made wrong choices.
Before you write to me and tell me to go to hell, I'll quote a very religious, God-fearing friend of mine; "I forgive them for what they did because I know they are getting what they deserve." Take comfort in that, if you will, and leave the living to their grief.
Do you think it was easy going to the police and telling them, "I know who the shooters are. They're my friends?" Just in case there's any doubt in your mind, let me emphasize this. NO IT WASN'T.
It was one of the hardest things I've ever had to do. I was scarred emotionally that day and for that, I thank the boys. With these scars, which I bear proudly, I can now write better. My works have more depth and feel to them because I'VE LIVED.
I saw something that most people, thankfully, never see. I saw my friends killing my friends.
Betrayal of the worst kind.
It would be easy to tell you that I'm over it.
I'm not.
How do you get over the death of people like that? Friends, neighbors? It's impossible. You go on, day in and day out, trying to make some sense of the world and failing because you can't make sense of a world that never makes any sense to begin with.
I'm not cynical. I'm realistic. I know what this page could mean for me. I know this page is out there for the media to get to and twist my words to suit their purposes.
I can't bring myself to care about such petty things.
Life is too good to me. I have a girl I love dearly, who loves me back, a great home, a bright future, and no worries.
All I have is this dark past.
Below is a list of questions that I am asked periodically. If your question is not on here, email it to me and I'll put it on here. Unless I don't. Then it won't be here.
Where you there?
Yes. Yes I was.
Did you see them?
I saw Dylan.
What did you see?
As I told the police, I saw Dylan walking up the hill carrying a sawed-off shotgun. I knew it was even though I only saw the back of his head. Knowing that I needed a positive ID, I stayed where I was in the cafeteria to get a better look. I ID'd Dylan by his walk. As he walked up the hill, I saw a young boy running off in the distance. He appeared to have blood on his jeans. He wore a light shirt and the jeans were light colored as well. Dylan walked back down the hill with what I later had confimed as a bomb in his hand. It had the appearance of a ppolice tear gas canister. He pulled the pin and threw it into the parking lot. At this point, I had seen his face. He wore his duster and his sunglasses. At that point, I left.
How did you get out?
I was crouched by the backstage entrance of the auditorium. There was a younger girl in front of me. I started to creep forward to see if the coast was clear and to make sure that everyone behind me would have some warning if they were coming. I heard someone yell my name and "Get in here!" I turned. It was my choir teacher, who was teaching guiter at that time. I ran into the backstage area of the auditorium, knowing that, in the state of mind they were in, all the people(I believe it was all girls) who had been behind me, would follow. I ran into the auditorium and looked around. People were running thru it. Some had stopped near the bottom. I ran up to the second level and out. I was then in the hall where a teacher had been shot moments before. I glanced to the left, toward the library. No one was down that way. It was deathly quiet. I glanced to my right and I saw two young men milling around near the office. They had the appearance of "jocks" or "preps". I ran in that direction. I glanced down the hall that led to the math and science halls. I saw no one. I glanced down the hall toward the gym. Again, no one. The only people were the ones who followed me and the two boys before me. I ran past the boys and thru the counseling hall. I sought the quickest way to Clement Park. I ran out the doors near the counseling hall and thru the smoker's pit into Clement Park. Everyone who followed me did the same.
Did anyone besides the boys know about this?
Gods, I hate this question. No, No one else knew about it. They acted completely on their own.
What about what DeAngelis has said about no one knowing about the abuse?
I'd like to state once and for all that that is the biggest load of bullshit I have ever heard. Dry that out and sell it for fertilizer after you pick off the shrooms, it's completely false. Reports filed into the office all the time. People knew that certain jocks were beating their girlfriends. Nothing was done for fear of offending the state champ. I will take this moment to say, if you write me and protest this, you are claiming and announcing your own guilt. I make no mention of any names besides the dead. It was not uncommon for the jocks and preps to get away with quite a lot. I speak from personal experience. As a frechman I was harrassed. My senior year, I attempted to continue the proud tradition and was promptly suspended for it. Maybe it was because I was wearing camoflauge instead of Abercrombie and Fitch. Maybe it was because I listen to KMFDM instead of Britney Spears. Maybe it was because I wasn't a jock or a prep.
When did you graduate?
Proud member of the Class of 2000 here, folks.
Was it any different after the shooting?
Not really. People still wore camoflauge, even though there was supposed to be a rule against it. When I returned after I graduated I saw an upsurge in the "goth" and "freak" categories. People still refer to each other as "bitch" and "fuckhead" and yes, we ever have people who say "dyke". GASP! We also have real assholes there, but we won't get into that. People seem to be more true to who they are. At least that's what I saw.
Was the community really as supportive as they seemed?
Heh...well, they tried to be. But I guess you can't get away from the middle America bible belt mentality. Nearly everything was "God" centered. Even the song my buddy Jon sang with his brother. That song is a (as I call it) "yay, God!" song. It was rather annoying, depressing and exclusionary to those who do not believe in God. Also, you would expect the community to be a bit more openminded. I mean come on...it's not that hard to accept when a chick is kissing another chick. That went over well in school. Everytime there would be some dumb jock saying, "Dude! Did you see those two lezzies kiss?" Never mind that we were bi...
Bitter much?
o.o Why whatever gave you that idea?
Are you going to be the next Dylan and Eric?
The last person to ask me that question still avoids me. She's very glad I moved to California. I'd like to state here that just because a person likes violence, blood, gore, swords, guns, hand to hand combat, karate, violent movies or video games, red meat, or any combination of the aforementioned things, that does not make them a killer in waiting. It merely means they enjoy those things. I enjoy playing House of the Dead. That does not mean that I am going to go around and shoot people in the head claiming they are zombies and will attack people. I'd be locked up in the looney bin if I did that. I like having freedom. And while I retain my distrust of the American legal system, I do not wish to test it by commiting any sort of felony. So, no, I am not the next Dylan or Eric. And that chick is scared of me because I insulted her and gave her what amounts to a death glare. (Think Xena. Yeah, that's it!)
Can I have your phone number?
Wow, and you haven't even asked me to dinner.
Where are you now?
In a perpetual state of insanity.
Can you have me meet Jon, the guy who sang the Columbine song? Please please please? He's just so cute!
o.o Ok, that's called OBSSESSION. I suggest you see someone for that. Soon. And no, you cannot meet Jon. He's happy with his own girl.
Are you gay?
It's been awhile since I've gotten this one, but yes, I am gay. I'm married to a wonderful femme.
So you're a chick?
I would think that was glaringly obvious.
Can I watch?
Ask me again and have your balls become intimately acquainted with my sword.
Can I have your picture?
I'll make this simple: NO. N-O. Do you understand? NO. It's an easy word to remember. Get used to it.
I don't see my question on here. I wanna ask you a question! LEMME ASK YOU A QUESTION!
Yeesh, fine, fine. All questions can be directed here.
And that concludes this question and answer session. Good day. Or as Walter Mercado says it(rather gay-ly) "Hoy manana y siempre, paz mucha paz, y mucho mucho mucho *kiss* amor!" Watch him sometime. It's a hoot.
Copyright Lex 'Spork' Tenou 2000