179 lines
9.5 KiB
Plaintext
179 lines
9.5 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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t w e n t y t w o
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a year has past. the longest of my spent life
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no doubt, has just f l o w n by
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me without a g o o d b y e, probably because it
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is still here -- still near to help me.
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in one year i have learned so many things -- it's
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u n r e a l to think, in one past, i was merely
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twenty. would i have imagined it then, -- my
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conscious self -- which dreams in my life would
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unfold themselves post sleep? and how many?
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for the past six months i have been free from
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cubicle walls, working in the unfinished dungeon
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of my basement -- by myself, yet for myself.
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you see, this has always been my dream. not
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quite, yet what i have seen in them -- yet six
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months, in t i m e, is still early.
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off hand i can't say that i've done a lot, but
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when i think about it, i've been through a lot.
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i have loved. i have loved before, you see, but
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not like this. for i have always poured love out
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over w a l l s so high -- no love could get in.
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for the first time, i pulled someone up over the
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walls -- for the first time, i let someone l o v e
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me. sure -- some have loved me b e f o r e,
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but it doesn't take long to learn your love is
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not wanted, though effort a p p r e c i a t e d.
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what have i learned from this? love h u r t s --
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as much as, if not more than, pushing it back.
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See, when you wall out everything, you're merely
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injured by your lack of what you imagine love to
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be, to feel like, coming in -- a feeling seemingly
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so much greater than the feeling going out.
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yet when you accept love, there is a hell of a
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lot of shit that goes with it -- makes me wonder
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if this is how my love felt. with love, at
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times, one pays the price. but i am
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s t r o n g e r now. and having t r u s t e d,
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i feel i am more able to trust m y s e l f.
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i used to f e a r the m word, appropriately
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abbreviated by the four letter word 'm i n e.'
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it's not so bad being someone's. it's just that
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f o r e v e r bit i seem to mind. the mind is bad
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at times . . . or who am i to discredit my life's
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guide? i will rephrase that -- the m i n d is
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difficult. just when the inter-relational strife
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builds up, a few choice faces, along with the
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rest of their natural selves, invade my dreams.
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in waking, i shortly ponder why i put up with
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this begrudging entity curled next to yet far from
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me. to a c t on such dreams would be blissful, yet
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oh so temporary, ecstasy. once reality hit, the
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ecstasy would exit, and in that void i would at
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least hope to feel guilty- feel s o m e t h i n g.
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knowing anything feels better than the numbness.
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my song at nineteen -- rather fitting, especially
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when sung by a thirty-year-old friend of mine --
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'hey n i n e t e e n, no we can't dance tonight,'
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left me fumbling ever so ungracefully towards
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ecstasy at twenty. by t w e n t y one, or near the
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end, i should say, it was just no good at all.
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and is no good. and probably will never be. maybe
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by twenty t h r e e i'll loose my apathy. oddly
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enough, it was when apathy hit -- when i let go of
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how i wanted my life to be -- that my dreams began
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to unfold before me. to think i used to abhor the
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word, 'a p a t h y,' at t h i r t e e n, ready to
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take on much more than the world around me.
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it's no good. i was never much a fan of depeche
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mode -- lyrics where nice, but the music just
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didn't move me. now with my acquired grains of
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w i s d o m, i realize it was never supposed to
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move me, but s t o p every little thing
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that flows within me -- jolting me to a screeching
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halt -- with the first note, rendering me intern-
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ally void, e m p t y, for the music to pour the
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words, themselves, into me, filling me, forming me
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into a substance of my dreams, not them of me.
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once, and only once, did this song move me --
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one night, my inhibitions long since drunk away,
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rendered my walls a form of putty. as everything
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within ceased on cue, external warmth molded the
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words forming within me. and since, that putty
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seems to have formed s t o n e memories.
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i have learned about myself, and yet learned no
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shame. i am known to regret too much, to hold
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onto too many things, yet n o n e i hold now are
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y o u n g -- and hopefully by twentythree, none
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will remain. i have learned to regard the g o o d
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and bad, with not indifference, but acceptance.
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to n o t d w e l l o n t h e s e t h i n g s.
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my tension is loosening. my neck and shoulders
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actually feel f r e e, unbound by the weight of
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the stresses i once carried with me. i may
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be far from stress-free, but at least i can turn
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my head, see over them -- b e y o n d the 'me.'
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there are t h r e e men that i love -- only one
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that knows he is o n e of three, yet still stays
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with me.and possibly a fourth that thinks he knows
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where i am falling. though i have yet to create my
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own stipulations between the definitions of love
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and _in_love_, i can, with a seed of certainty,
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say that by then, the 'in' will have found me.
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what concerns me is, then, will i have found it in
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only three? what is it that holds something so
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precious as love as h o s t a g e for one? with
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the answer to this, will someone please help me?
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in my h e r m i t a g e, isolated from the rest of
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the working world out there, that endless hummm of
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white-noised cubicle culture is replaced by the
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stchurching of sprinklers, the meowing of mowers,
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the chatter and laughter of children singing
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through the trees to the music whistling in the
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winds. though seemingly isolated, i am far from
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the a l o n e that i felt, surrounded by so many
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people, yet so few who chanced to get to know me.
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i have the freedom to do what i want and when, to
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write in bed, well past ten. to structure my day.
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to w a l k the dog. to pet the cat. to feel at
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home, in a place of mine own -- something
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i h a v e n e v e r q u i t e h a d.
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in this past year, i have grown a lot. have read
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a lot. have loved and laughed to my heart's
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content. did dare to crack a smile -- a toothy one
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at that. the light is returning to my once
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blue eyes, to dawn the dewey green. this past
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year, i believe i have found my 's e l f.' in the
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next year, i plan to find confidence in it, in me.
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yt 060898
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= Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions =
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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.DTO.NET /pub/zines/fuck =
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= FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK =
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= WWW *** http://www.sekurity.org/~fuck *** =
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= http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho =
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= http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html =
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= http://www.simunye.com/fuck =
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= http://www.dis.org/se7en/fuck =
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= (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. =
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