126 lines
6.8 KiB
Plaintext
126 lines
6.8 KiB
Plaintext
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= F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. =
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The Beating of my Bones
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For the last couple years, seven of them to be exact, I have felt this
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emptiness. One that was describe in the last file I wrote. I mentioned
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that I liked to inflict physical pain upon myself so that I could drown
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out the sadness of my heart. Ever since I wrote that file my heart has
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been as a thunderstorm. Here one second, gone the next, inconstant and
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never ending. At one particular point, in which I shall now disclose, my
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heart felt as nothing. My entire body, nothing.
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So as I have done in the past I started physically abusing myself. First
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came the liquor. Nothing smooth and refreshing, just straight tequila. It
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didn't take too long before I was fucked up. The music was refreshing for
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awhile. God, Mozart knows how to make an opera. As life, operas end. I
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could have played another, but my bones just weren't into it.
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<BANG> It felt like I broke my hand. I certainly broke my refrigerator.
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However it wasn't enough, I could see my hand turning red and it wasn't
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enough. I wanted to feel pain as though I never have before. I wanted to
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feel alive again. For the first time in seven years I wanted to prove that
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I existed. I am not just some ghost that follows you to work every day. I
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am not just some reflection in a mirror.
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I left my house. I never lock the doors. If someone came in and robbed me
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blind I wouldn't even report it to the police. At least I could say that
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someone cared enough about the stuff I have to steal them. I am glad I am
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not a materialistic person. Otherwise I might be upset if moonlight was gone
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when I got back. Money is nothing, I could always buy another.
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Since I don't have a car I just walked. Any normal person would not
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extract such a task upon themselves in my neighborhood. I am just glad I
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am not normal. I am glad I don't care. I picked the worst neighborhood to
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live in for a reason. I can walk out of my house every morning and look
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around to say "My god, I live in the slum of the world, and I am a part of
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it." It makes me feel better.
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Walking was a good idea because it didn't take long for what I was hoping
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would happen to happen. A black low riding civic pulled up slowly behind
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me. Just a bunch of silly punks looking for some action I imagine. So I
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stopped walking. Turned around and played innocent.
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"You guys lost."
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"I don't think we're the ones lost fool."
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It was going to happen, I could feel it. I saw that one of them had a gun,
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there were three of them in all. Were they going to try and kill me? I was
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looking for a fight, I was looking for someone to beat me to
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unconscienceness. However I was not looking to die. No matter how much I
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abstract myself from this world I still love it.
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"I live in this neighborhood, right down the street. I am just going to
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the gas station to get some smokes."
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"You picked the wrong time to go to shopping tonight boy."
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Boy? Did they call me boy?
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"I AM NOT A FUCKING BOY!"
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I ran for the person in front of the guy with the gun. I figured if he was
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going to shot that thing it was going to be before I got to them, so if I
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could put someone in between us his chances of hitting the right person
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would be slim. Besides, he was probably drunk anyway.
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I threw the person in front of me up against the guy with the gun. He
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flew back against the car while I threw the guy in front of me onto the
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ground. While the guy with the gun was trying to recover I was able to
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kick his hand hard enough to dislodge the gun into someone's yard. Right
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when I was about to punch him the third guy hit me in the back.
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It didn't even hurt. I was a little shocked but not in pain. So I decided
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to play along with it a little more. I wanted these men to beat me, but I
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wanted them to do it with such vengeance that I would never forget it. I
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wanted to give them a reason to do it.
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I quickly spun around and hit him double fisted in the stomach and then
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chopped him in the throat. It didn't take too long before the other two
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guys had grabbed my arms. These men were weak. I twisted my arms to get a
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better grip on them both and then threw myself back pulling them in front
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of me. This did not have the desired effect I had hoped for. The plan was
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to get them to smack heads and let go of me, but instead they just sort of
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ran into each other and then pulled me up and wrapped my arms around my
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back.
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This is when the fun started. The third guy was very unhappy about not
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being about to breath for a minute so he started punching me in the gut.
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This is when I gave up. He must have punched me twenty times in my gut
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before they let go of me so that I could throw up on the ground.
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After that I can't really remember what happened. It seemed like the
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beating lasted forever but it didn't. After not too long the person whose
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house I was being beaten in front of came out with a gun and told those
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guys to "Get the hell out of here." He helped me up. I told him that I was
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ok, and that I only lived two blocks away and could make it home. He
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escorted me anyway. Some people in this world aren't too bad.
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My god, there was so much blood in the sink. I have never felt so happy,
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so worthless in all my life. Finally, i am alive.
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Tortured Soul
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= Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions =
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= Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) =
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= To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with =
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= "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back =
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= issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. =
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= AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK =
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= FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids =
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= FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK =
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= FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK =
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= WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho =
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= http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html =
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= http://www.interlog.com/~lisa/f.u.c.k. =
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= (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. =
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