67 lines
3.0 KiB
Plaintext
67 lines
3.0 KiB
Plaintext
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'##::::'##:::'#####:::'########: VIVA LA REVOLUCION! CERDO DEL CAPITALISTA!!
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##:::: ##::'##.. ##:: ##.....:: ===========================================
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##:::: ##:'##:::: ##: ##::::::: THE HELOTS OF ECSTASY PRESS RELEASE #495 !!
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#########: ##:::: ##: ######::: ZIEGO VUANTAR SHALL BE MUCH VICTORIOUS! !!
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##.... ##: ##:::: ##: ##...:::: ===========================================
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##:::: ##:. ##:: ##:: ##::::::: "You're Weird" !!
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##:::: ##::. #####::: ########: by -> Tasha !!
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..:::::..::::.....::::........:: 3/3/99 !!
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!!========================================================================!!
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"I'll wait outside."
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"It's raining."
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"I know."
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"I'll be out in a few minutes."
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"Don't rush yourself."
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Laugh. Silence. Footsteps. Mine.
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The soles of my shoes screech against the dirty tiles of the
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hallway, and I look up to make sure no one heard. Faster. Must move
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faster. Get out. Now. Doorway. Solace. Push. Harder.
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It _is_ raining, though not as hard I would like. I can immitate
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these raindrops, which sound like one of the noises that came out of a
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keyboard I got in 3rd grade. Light. Metallic. Tinkling of water hitting
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cement. Cement which is soaked and soaking my jeans as I write with this
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pen that I've had for years, and it's more a part of me than my big toe.
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After blending in with many seas of faces and bodies, I used to
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find myself special because I was sad. A lot. Generic teenage angst.
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I'm not special anymore. Excuse me while I blend back into this sea of
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faces and bodies.
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Okay.
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I feel more alone now amongst 300 students all waiting to go home.
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Comfort is in this lined paper. I hope you take longer than you expected,
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for one more glance at your smiling face will make me vomit up everything
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I've eaten in the past 3 weeks.
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"The alone has given me time enough to dream again... not afraid of
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losing my shivering grip on reality anymore... it's already gone..."
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It's a good day to be cold, you know. Cold just to realize you can
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still feel something. Something as superficial as temperature. It's
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good. But I already said that. God forbid I go getting redundant again.
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Again. Again. Again.
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The ground is soggy and covered randomly in hills of old snow.
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Gray and dead. Well, as dead a half-frozen water can be. As gray as
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anything can be, with it's black speckles of tar and dirt. Yet it is more
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fresh than anything I've seen all day. Spring is coming. Mud oozes
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between my fingers as I bury my hand in the closest thing I can find
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that's real.
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"What are you doing out here?"
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"Nothing."
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"Your hand is in mud, Tasha."
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"I know."
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"You're weird."
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"I know."
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"I'm ready to go."
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Stand.
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!!========================================================================!!
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!! (c) !LA HOE REVOLUCION PRESS! HOE #495, WRITTEN BY: TASHA - 3/3/99 !!
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