117 lines
5.9 KiB
Plaintext
117 lines
5.9 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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1-900-SUICIDE
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I am dead. I am breathing, but I feel no life. I sit and ask
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myself all the questions I can never truthfully answer. "Why
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can't I just be happy?" "Why do people treat me so fucked
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up?" "Why do I feel like dieing?"...
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Truth is, I don't feel like dieing. I feel like
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living...happily. In peace. But since I can't, I want to end
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it. I will end it. I must.
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I looked at the razor blade sitting on top of my stereo. I
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stared at it as if I was obsessively in love with it and what
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it is capable of. I started crying, I threw the phone that
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was in my hand. It hit the wall so hard, one off the pieces
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flew back and hit my eye. That pissed me the fuck off. I
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looked at the blade again, and decided to do it. Cut.
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I grabbed the blade, and wiped it off...I looked at my wrist
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and scratched my wrist as hard as possible. It turned red.
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Bright red. I started to cut, I slowly cut about an inch
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long....no where near the vein. Then I realized I didn't want
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to die. I wanted a scar, a physical scar, to show for my
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emotional ones. I decided to cut again, this time I was
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closer to my vein, I looked at the blood come out. I felt
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good. I felt like I was invincible. The phone rang. My ex,
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telling me how I felt again.
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Why do people automatically assume just because THEY are ok,
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that I must be too. He keeps telling me I am ok, that I don't
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want to die. That I won't. That he will stop me. It made me
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wanna do it more. I hung up...blade still in hand, and cut my
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other wrist again, right on my vein. I just watched the blood
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ooze out, it seemed so...so peaceful. I felt relieved. I
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licked my wrist, and tasted my blood. It was sweet. Sweetest
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thing I ever tasted. Kinda sick, huh? No. It was beautiful.
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That I felt so dead, yet so alive. I felt so much pain, yet
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so much warmth.
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I was listening to the SneakerPimps. Her voice hypnotized
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me. I felt like I wanted to be the beat, her voice caressing
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me. I decided that since I couldn't do that, I didn't want to
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do anything else. I went to my dresser, still bleeding, and
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reached for my trusty bottle of prozac. I took out 7 pills.
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All that was left. I took them all. I went to the bathroom,
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and took 4 or 5 codeine, I can't really remember, since I
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felt completely numb and dizzy.
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Next thing I remember doing is laying down on my cold floor.
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Completely intoxicated by the music.
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I woke up the next morning, feeling very very sick. I threw
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up about 5 times. I went back to my room, and looked at the
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floor. I saw blood all over, and a piece of paper right by
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it. I picked it up, and unfolded it. It said...
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"You did the right thing bitch, and if you wake up to see
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this, you failed once again. Next try! Sincerely, Your
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Mother!"
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WHAT THE FUCK!!! I am truly disturbed now. She has done it.
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She's lucky she's not here right now. (Keep in mind, this just
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happened) How could she say something so cruel to me? I know I
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get on her nerves, and sometimes she even feels like killing
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me,but damnnn!!!
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That's ok though. Because regardless of how bad it hurt to
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read that, I know she doesn't mean it. She is saying this
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because she knows I will live. She knows I have to. She's
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just bringing to my attention what a dumbass I make of myself
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when I do dumb shit like that. And it IS true.
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Point of this all; so many people inn my life have downed me
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for being "suicidal". They tell me I'm crazy, I'm
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exaggerating, blah blah blah. The thing is, most people who
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TALK about killing themselves, are the ones who are too
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fucking scared to actually go thru with it. They just want
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attention. They might feel like dieing, and in all actuality
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wish they were dead, but they won't do it.
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The ones who don't talk about, well they just don't. And
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sooner or later, that anger will eat them up, and they will
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go thru with it.
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But however, I have talked about it many times, telling
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people I was going to do it, and I really wanted to. I really
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tried. It just failed. And the more people tell me how I
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feel, or how things really are, makes me want to prove to
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them even more so, just how BAD it is. SO be careful....
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-Sadia
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-GyrL WundeR
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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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= "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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= 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.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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