http://mydeathspace.com/article/2008/01/10/Justin_Campbell_aka_Shaky_(25)_committed_suicide_b y_setting_himself_on_fire_in_a_closet
This was snagged from another forum. It's a blog Shaky posted before killing himself:
"life is pain"
Body:
don't be swindled by lies.
don't trust the words i love you.
don't make promises you can't keep.
stop being a slut or a manwhore.
stop using and abusing everyone you think you can get away with it... or not.
quit fucking.
don't bring a child into this world if you can't take care of it or if you have problems in your genes.
and to those that really mean something to me, stop the wars. love eachother. FUCK what ANYONE thinks. people are goiing to talk. stand up for whats true and real. use your hearts but don't let them get away from you.
have a party. remember what we always said we were goiing to do... and do it.
i always wanted to be a writer... write a book about love that never goes wrong through the toughest times. a book with anarcho vibes. that ends sadly in apocalypse. the last line will read "perhaps our ghosts meet again someday and finish what we started."
i wanted to paint. silk screen. finish a whole fucking record and put it out... better than maladjusted social tendencies...
my music playlist needs work. it needs some slackers, specials, weakerthans (utilities)... that george romero song by the sprites... and leftover crack/ world inferno... soon we'll be dead.
justin3chord is my username
******** is my password.
be good to eachother.
be meaningful.
don't lie.
be true.
don't fucking forget it.
i love who i love and you know who i love.
and im sorry.
goodbye.
Another blog by Shaky:
my earliest memory took place around two or three years old.
it was dark, there was broken glass and yelling. all i remember is a violence coming from behind us. my mom grabbed me and broke more glass on the way out of the door. soon after that my father didn't live with us for another few years.
my next memory was probly around four years old. my mom used to clean people's houses and she would take me with her. i remember going through some rich kids toy box and finding a wind up e.t. toy. digging more through the box i found another. i remember being appauled by this notion. not appauled in a bad way... just a little worried and i just couldn't grasp why there were two. i suppose i thought that everything was one of a kind. and perhaps im digging too deep. disecting life a bit much (i really can't help the patterns my brain turns in... even as a small child). but it makes me sad that one could think so innocently once... when really... nothing is one of a kind. especially in these days. everything and everyone is so prefabricated, confused and brainwashed. everyone seems to follow a leader... whether the leader is actually a leader or whether the follower even seems to know theyre following something. some great big plan... ive had my own plans. ive also been lazy or without means. i know where my faults rest... actually theyre usually not resting at all. my faults are usually on guard twenty four seven. but i wonder for what... i guess if i thought life had to be and is always going to be some bitter disappointment... i would stop worrying and find a way to accept it. but i suppose i do fight it... on a daily basis. i fight my own pesimism along with fighting the harshness of the world. im very sensitive despite my cynical sometimes tough exterior...
my third memory sits above a highway with the lights turned on and the road dark ahead. i don't remember where we were going. i don't think there was a true destination. i remember something was wrong but i didn't know what. and i remember being too young to hear what was placed on me. the driver asked me if i ever wanted to just die... the driver then asked me if i wanted to die this particular night. i knew the driver was sad. but like i said, i didnt know what about. i was sad too... but i didn't want to die. i wasn't even aware that was an option at such a point in my life.
these three memories stick out to me in such a strange way... i find them symbolic not just because they are my first three memories. and of course there are alot more. unfortunately the ones that stick out the most don't get much better. in fact they get darker and they only seem to get more violent and leaving one with a total sense of bitter'ness and many photos purposely gone up in flames. my point is... despite the dark cloud that has always seem to have followed... even as a baby. ive always felt... not pride, but... something like it in soley myself. a trooper even despite some decisions I'VE made. ive never hated me basically... ive always tried to push forth away from the bad things. away from getting beaten or mentally abused in so many different ways. even through times of great depression ive felt deep down "play the cards you're given... someone's gotta be delt a shitty hand right!?". fuck. i wouldn't be who i am if it weren't for how my life has been... from the beginning.
damn... thats the fucking problem isnt it. granted its not my fault... but FUCK!!!
something has changed...
im trying harder than ever to be a trooper and carry myself and invisible weight along with me. pounds even tons of invisible weight. i carry worry and fear with me. i try to shake them off. i find myself in matches with them to stop and leave me alone. leave my loved ones alone. im doing everything i can. everything i have control over to make this cloud go away. but for once in my life... i don't want to be me. i used to say fuck the cloud i am justin and i am a good person now matter what. i will always stand by my beliefs and my heart. and ya know what... i always will as long as im here. i wish more people felt such a way. but, i don't really want to be me anymore. i don't want this life. i want to be someone you can truly love. someone who makes you smile. someone you don't want to let go of... not because you worry. but because you don't want to miss me. the worst feeling... worse than having you're life threatened in third grade because you're not growing up to be what your parents wanted you to be. worse than someone close dying. having so much passion and love inside to give but its not being recieved because there's so many other things trying to destroy it... i fear that it isn't being seen at all. its too cloudy.
i've always said i would never be anyone else but me... and yeah, do i really have a choice? no. but now i guess ive gone back on how ive always felt. my entire life. there's nothing i can do... but be sad i guess.