76 lines
4.3 KiB
Plaintext
76 lines
4.3 KiB
Plaintext
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$$$$
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$$$$T""P$$$ba, ,gd&P""T&bg. ,gd&P""T&bg.
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ggggggggggg $$$$ $$$$$b d$$$$ $$$$b d$$$$ $$$$$b ggggggggggg
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""""""""""" $$$$ $$$$$$ $$$$$ $$$$$ $$$$$bxxP&$$&P """""""""""
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$$$$ $$$$$$ T$$$$ $$$$P T$$$$
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$$$"""""" " """" $$$$$$ "T&$bxxd$&P" "T&$bxx$$$$$' " """"""$$$
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""" """""" """
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ggg "My Long-term Dependency" ggg
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$$$ by - Big Daddy Bill $$$
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$$$ $$$
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$$$ [ HOE E-Zine #965 -- 12/16/99 -- http://www.hoe.nu ] .,$$$
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`"""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""'
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I guess this is where I get philosophical about my entire being,
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while I'm in this state of mind that is. But really, if I think about
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it, I haven't had anything to say in quite a long time. I wish I did
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though, because it would make things a whole lot easier. Maybe this is
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going to be another long, boring whiney story about how my life didn't
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turn out the way I wanted it to and how nobody loves me and all that
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shit. Maybe it's just a front, to start actually getting my emotions
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out, maybe in the wrong way, or in the right way, it doesn't matter.
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Maybe I've finally gone crazy, and all the acid I did has made me
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bi-polar and semi-manic-depressive. Maybe, maybe, maybe.
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What really happens behind the scenes is what I'm wondering. In
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this huge evolution called life I always wanted to know what people
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really, I mean *really* thought about me. It just seems to me that I'm
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the one doing all the please and thank you's, why can't some other
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motherfucker be nice just for once? You know, I never heard someone say
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that I was smart, or attractive, or funny, without pretty much fishing
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for it. It may be pathetic if you analyze it, but all I want is to know.
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For once, I just wish someone would tell me who I really am, who I really
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should be or who I really want to be, because I just can't seem to figure
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it out. Then again, in this sheltered existence, I never had to figure
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anything out on my own.
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So why can't anybody explain the things that I feel? So why can't
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anybody understand me or what I'm going through 24-7? So why do I have
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to type my angsty words down on this computer screen to put on display to
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all the people who don't give a shit? Probably because I'm hoping the
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right person will read this, and say that they know what I'm talking
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about, or that they think I'm smart, attractive, or funny, or that they
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really give a shit. I'm so tired of being the only one to comfort
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people, to turn an ear to people, to just shut up and listen. I'm so
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*sick* of being self-involved and emotionally fist-fucked! Lots of people
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go home hungry and get beaten by their parents and stick needles in their
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arms while they drool their lives away in a pain-less stupor somewhere in
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the streets of urbania. So why can't I just quit whining about my
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middle-middle class self and accept the fact that I still have it made,
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that I still eat and sleep in a comfortable bed and I'm not addicted to
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anything but caffeine?
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Because I don't want to care anymore. Because I'm not them in
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their world. Because I've listened so much to other peoples problems and
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worried my ass off about them that I'm beginning to grow cold and
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selfish. Because I'm still scared of growing independent.
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I've sat down and analyze every aspect about me, and mentally
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tried to improve myself. I've even tried to physically improve myself.
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And once, I even emotionally improved myself. But somehow, some way,
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that all turns to shit. I smoked myself retarded, I've eaten more
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calories then I burned, and I'm as confused and fucked up as ever about
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the whole emotional aspect.
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But hey, you know, I'll live. I'll keep on truckin'. You know me,
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prone for this whole self-abuse. I'll never change a thing, simply
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because I'm used to this cycle. So really, you can disregard this entire
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thing as another whiney issue, because this is the only therapy I can
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afford.
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Thanks for listening.
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[--------------------------------------------------------------------------]
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[ (c) !LA HOE REVOLUCION PRESS! HOE #965, BY BIG DADDY BILL - 12/16/99 ]
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