Regret or a Lack Thereof

NOTE; this is a sequel to my story ghost of a girl, as requested, but you can read it as a standalone. There is also a reference to a story by Kate Winchester (Anything but elementary), check her out. It also has themes of self-harm, suicide, and murder. Otherwise, enjoy!

4/12/25

Dear diary,

I think I am a great actor. I really did do a great job at the funeral. Some idiots even cried at my speech. People aren't the best detective. Or maybe it is that I am just such a good actor.

Iris has always been an enigma. Popular, hot, and caring. Adored by all. Seemingly humble and a tortured poet. Which is bullshit. I disliked her from the moment I laid eyes on her. You see, Iris is entitled and gets everything she wants. Even when I want it. Council president? I had prepared a speech, made posters, and a whole ass campaign, and she freestyled. She beat me. That private school for music? I have straight A's and extracurriculars and she got in with her B's. I didn't. Finally, I got a girlfriend. The girl I knew she was in love with. Iris isn't shy about it. I didn't even like Trish. I just wanted to hurt Iris.

Looking back, I realize I may have been a bit obsessed with beating Iris. But can you blame me? So imagine my face when I found out that Trish cheated on me with her.

I am not usually a violent person, but this made me snap. Iris didn't even realize she got everything. She thought we were friends. That I adored her. More proof of how great of an actor I am. Do you have any idea how many emo mixtapes I suffered through?

I won't go into detail about how I did it in case that police find this. Hi police! Bitches can't do shit if I don't confess to shit. All I will say is she is dead now, and I think I am being haunted. Why do I think that? i saw her at the funeral. She wasn't even hiding. I didn't notice for a while, of course, I was busy patting myself on the back. But when I gave my speech about how sad I was, she was just standing there, eyebrow raised, like she was unimpressed. Until she saw me looking at her, when she flipped me off. Then she just kind of.. disappeared.

My immediate reaction was 'okay guilt makes hallucinations'. That held up. I was just going insane, nothing supernatural. But then I saw her again. Or more accurately, she left me something to find. A dead rat. My pet rat. Which really, was just rude. Now there are too many things to count. My favorite outfit going missing, science project destroyed, lipstick massages on my mirrors.

Occasionally I would actually see her. She always seems to be next to my friends, though they don't see her. But then they stop talking to me. None of them talk to me anymore. The teachers stopped picking me to speak. My parents stopped buying me new things.

Last Wednesday, Iris' mother came to my house in tears. When I answered the door, she just smacked me in the face, turned, and left.

So anyway, long story short, this diary entry can double as a suicide note. Which means I can admit everything. I did kill her. I got the alcohol for all the parties. Even cases closed have been related to me. I suggested to my friend Claire to do that terrible prank on Patty. Claire is in jail. I convinced Alice that Lola was talking trash about her. Alice took her life three days later. But none of that matters anymore, does it? I'll be dead when you read this. If you read this. If anybody reads this. My reasons are simple. Nobody talks to me. Iris seems to be haunting me, and I know her, so I know she isn't going to stop till I'm dead. But the biggest reason is I can't live knowing I did all this. Sure, it would be just as easy to blame my actions on my dead mom and alcoholic dad, but I still did that stuff. I know I'm a terrible person, and I don't know how to fix it.

But let's all be honest with ourselves, is life interesting without people like me? I make things fun, even if some people can't handle it. But that is their problem. My problem is what shade of lip-gloss best conveys 'I am a murderer, don't make me do it again' vibes. And it works. The only reason I am hoisting a white flag this time is because I need attention. People aren't giving me that. I want it. Those Pussies are all too busy crying over some lame ass pick me girl with to many mental disorders to function. And now they know. They don't say they know, but I can tell by how they look at me.

Really, you guys could have prevented this. Just talk to me. I'm bored. It's true I could get attention by confessing and going to jail, but I'm not made for jail. The food is trash, the people are trash, and the clothing is worse than whatever the fuck it is that Miley wears, which is honestly impressive.

So to keep things simple, bye. I don't want to die. It's just better than living. Yes, I hate who I have become. But do I regret it? No. That's the worst part. I, the self-proclaimed best actor, can't even pretend to feel bad about it. Sure, I can act sad, but not guilty. I don't know how to end these notes, so I will just apologize. For not telling Miley her style sucks while I could. Bye bitches, try to survive without me. I leave everything to Claire. Maybe she can use it to pay bail.

-Ellie