73 lines
3.4 KiB
Plaintext
73 lines
3.4 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 "October Rust and Why My Life Sux" ggg
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$$$ by -> Misfit $$$
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$$$ $$$
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$$$ (* HOE E'ZINE RELEASE #911 -- 11/30/99 *) .,$$$
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`"""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""'
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After high school, the summer of '96, is when the whole thing
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finally started to go downhill. Sure, we had our problems before that,
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living the gothic-meets-sid-and-nancy life, with abnormal consumption of
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drugs, the cheating, lying, self-absorption, and manipulation, but that
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was how it was supposed to be.
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But it kept getting worse. Late at night, drunk on wine we had
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stolen from her house, struggling to stay away from the drugs, always
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calling me, convinced that my twisted love for her would set me free of
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those chains.
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It never worked.
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But thru it all, I can remember the good times, listening to
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Stabbing Westward on top of my beat-up 85 Chevy at 1:00am after I got out
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of work, drinking and screwing like the world would end any moment.
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Having to scale the fence and climb to the second floor window to see her
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for those few minutes. That made it all worthwhile, right then all our
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hatred for each other would melt away leaving no evidence it ever
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existed.
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More than anything, our love of sex kept us together. The same
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thing that tore us apart. It was only a matter of time before a
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relationship like this exploded, but somehow we managed to keep making it
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work, amazing myself how I could so deeply love someone that I hated so
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dearly.
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When it exploded, so did I. That me died years ago, left in a
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corner writhing in agony as I swore to myself that I would never allow
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myself to be that way again. I couldn't handle another relationship as
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intense and lustful as this was, I knew it would kill me.
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So I buried it all. I left the real me behind, and pretended it
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didn't exist.
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When I look in the mirror, I find it hard to believe the person
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staring back is me.
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Sure, every now and again, I'd find myself thinking the same way I
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used to, but I never really took notice of it. But now, once again, on
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this cold October afternoon, I listen to those same sweet agonizing
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songs, the ones that defined my life, my attitudes, my hatred to all, but
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mostly to me.
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And people say I'm not gothic enough. I think the biggest
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requirement of the gothic movement is the self-hatred you feel, the
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attitude that you must have been some sort of mistake, you aren't meant
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to be here.
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But I digress.
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After all this time, sitting here, typing this on my cubicle, part
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of the machine I loathed so dearly, I notice how little I've really
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changed. Damn her for coming back into my life. Damn me for making the
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first step.
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[--------------------------------------------------------------------------]
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[ (c) !LA HOE REVOLUCION PRESS! HOE #911 - WRITTEN BY: MISFIT - 11/30/99 ]
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