326 lines
14 KiB
Plaintext
326 lines
14 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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what would have inevitably happened had i gone out tonight
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"it's our last show."
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my cousin was inviting me to come see his band play for the last time.
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though not exactly my style, i still enjoyed seeing them perform, and what
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better time to see them than their last show before breaking up?
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"when should i be over?"
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"within the next half-hour. the guys should be here any minute."
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i had plans today. my ex-girlfriend and i were supposed to go to a
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local town filled with homosexuals and headshops and indie record stores.
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she never called. i was angry. i was tired. i worked 68 hours this week.
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i didn't have the energy to do anything at 5:30p.m. - especially not go see
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a show 45 minutes away, which would guarantee my arrival back home at 11:00
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at the earliest. yet, i thought of my ex, who was probably out doing
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something, obviously not thinking about me, and having fun. i was angrier,
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and even more tired.
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"alright," i said. "see you in 10."
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-----
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i pulled up to his familiar house and shut off the car, grabbing my
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ever-present raspberry snapple and ever-necessary pack of cigarettes, walked
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up to the door, did the greetings, and went to his room.
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"they're not here yet," he said. "i learned something on guitar.
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check it out."
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he started playing, far better than i ever could even though we started
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learning the guitar at the same time. it was a song i had never heard and
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would probably never like, though i still praised him for playing it well,
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because he did. "sounds nice," i commented. "what's it called?"
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he told me the name of the song, the band, which members were in which
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bands before this one, etc. i wasn't listening. i was thinking about my
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ex, thinking that she might be calling my house right now, ready to
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apologize, giving acceptable reasons for our complete lack of contact for
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the past week.
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"can i use your phone?"
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"uh.. sure," he said, annoyed that i had interrupted him but still
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understanding why.
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while i was dialing the phone, his band walked in. my sister informed
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me that nobody had called for me. i was angrier, and i was ready to go to
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this show that i had no energy to go to. maybe the ex would call when i was
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45 minutes away, while i was totally inaccessible, and realize that my life
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didn't revolve around her. ah, yes. a brilliant plan.
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"when are we leaving?" i asked.
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"now," they said in unison.
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"okay."
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-----
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the drive there was uneventful, the vocalist for the band steering and
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blasting the music that i had never heard and would probably never like. i
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sipped my snapple and caressed my cigarettes, anxious to arrive so i could
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light up.
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i made a mental note to add an entry to my journal, which would later
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read as follows;
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sunday, 02/22/98 - 1:07a.m.
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i have listened to this same song over and over and over since i got home.
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work was especially slow today and yesterday too. i am ignoring somebody
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that is talking to me but not to be mean they are just talking a lot and i
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don't want to. i miss a lot of people, i have been thinking too much and i
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am going to sleep tonight with wet hair i have only done this two other
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times in my life. maybe a change is coming, bye
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-----
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finally a cigarette. the show was at some kid's house. his parents
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had night jobs so he apparently had bands play in his basement while they
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were gone and he'd clean up before they'd come home. i wondered why the
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suburbs had this effect on people, but not for long, because i was tired.
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the basement was big, bigger than mine; high ceiling, low people, they
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all looked silly, didn't really talk to me. i noticed a phone in the corner
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while i helped carry the band's gear in, but instead of giving in to
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temptation, i went to sit against a side wall to wait for the show to start.
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everybody was fawning over some stupid fucking dog. i scratched my ass
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and fumbled for my cigarettes, lit one and reached for my snapple.
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"please don't smoke in here," somebody said. i didn't look at them but
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i heard them.
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i nodded and put it out in the dirt of a plant's pot sitting on a
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small wooden stand beside me.
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"yo, dude, what are you doing? don't put that in the plant!"
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i knew i wouldn't like anybody there, i knew nobody would like me, i
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knew and i went anyway, out of spite. with a groan, i got up and walked
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outside, stood in the middle of the street and had a cigarette in peace.
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---
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they started playing. i was in the same spot, on the floor against the
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wall. my ass hurt because the floor was hard, but i was too tired to care.
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i was the only person sitting. i had stood for a few minutes but it was
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too difficult.
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i glanced over at the phone. nobody was using it.
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then it came. it always happened like this. the tips of my fingers
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started tingling and my breath started getting shorter. my head was
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ringing, my legs started trembling. my body temperature dropped quickly.
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the band's music started sounding more and more distant. then i blacked
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out.
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---
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"yo, dude, what the hell are you doing?"
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the voice was distant, but i still recognized it as the same one that
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had chastised me for smoking earlier. a female voice, a bit raspy, highly
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annoying. had i the energy i would have throttled her right then and there.
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i was slowly, slowly regaining consciousness. i realized the band was still
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playing. it was the same song. for some reason, the fact that my cousin
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had no idea what had just happened to me made me even more uncomfortable.
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he was trying his best not to hit the wrong strings and i was doing my best
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not to get sick all over myself.
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"what did you come here for if you were just going to sleep?" the same
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voice asked. i opened my eyes and looked at her.
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she had a "hitler hairdo." thanks to radiohead, i had recognized it.
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all eyeshadow and short hair and dockers. pouty lips, clenched jaw,
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genuinely frustrated with me. her hands were pressed on her hips in what
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she had hoped was an imposing posture, i'm sure.
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"i wasn't sleeping," i said.
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"what?!" she screamed. she couldn't hear me. the music was too loud
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and my voice was too weak. i motioned for the door, started crawling
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towards it for some fresh air. nobody saw except for her, and she followed,
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no doubt in an attempt to mercilessly yell at me some more. i remember
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vaguely wondering if she was a screamer in bed. such absurd thoughts tend
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to happen often after a panic attack, what with your brain in disarray.
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outside, i gasped, almost threw up. "why were you sleeping?" she
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repeated, slamming the door behind her.
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"i wasn't sleeping," i said, catching my breath.
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"well then what were you doing? why would you come to a show if you're
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just going to sleep? you think that band up there feels like playing to an
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unconscious audience?"
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obviously this girl had nothing in her life to be passionate about.
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she also hadn't realized that i had arrived with the band, but i didn't
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bother mentioning it for no other reason than i was concentrating on staying
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alert. the roaring in my head was fading.
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"i wasn't sleeping," i repeated. "i passed out."
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i realized my folly the moment the words left my lips. i had forgotten
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in my disorientation that i was at a house full of straight-edgers. she was
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about to remind me of it by proving once again that she had nothing to be
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passionate over.
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"so you're drunk then? you think the guy who lives here wants drunk
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people in his parents house?"
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his parents probably don't want you or your friends at their house
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either, i said to myself inwardly. "i'm not drunk," i pointed out.
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without warning, reason, or sense, she bent down and shoved her tongue
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in my mouth, our teeth grinding. there was such a sense of urgency in her,
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and such a lack of strength in me, that i let it happen. when she was
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finished i knocked her in the head with the palm of my hand. "you're a
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horrible kisser," i said. "why did you put me through that?" i was in a
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bad mood and, as with most people, i felt the need to spread it.
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and then, finally, i wretched.
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disgusted, she turned away. i rolled over and sat up.
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"i'm not drunk," i repeated. "please, can you go inside and get my
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snapple?" my throat was burning.
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no response. she was being dramatic. "please," i said. she walked
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back inside the house. i didn't care whether she got my drink or not. i
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was too busy savoring the fact that i was alone, but it didn't last long.
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she was determined to allow me no satisfaction. she slammed the bottle down
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next to me.
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"thank you," i said in earnest. "seeya."
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"no, what happened?" she asked. "why did you get drunk tonight?"
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i was drinking the snapple and didn't answer her. she turned away
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again, fumbling with her hair or something. i decided it was my turn to ask
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questions.
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"why are you out here? did you come to the show just to stand out on
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the back porch? you think that band up there..."
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she started crying then, and i realized who she was. she had had a
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haircut. an ex-girlfriend of my cousin's. good.
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good.
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"he's been fucking some girl for like 3 months. sometimes they go down
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to her parent's beach house in Maryland and screw for days on end. he's
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happy now."
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she turned, ran into the house. through the window i noticed her
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reaching for the phone, dialing, walking into the bathroom so she could
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hear.
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i smiled, leaned back against the porch railing, lit a cigarette. i
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rested my left arm at my side and it fell into the pool of vomit, but i
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didn't care.
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-----
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"did you like the show?" my cousin asked on the way home.
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"yes."
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-----
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i walked into my side door, went through the kitchen, took a shower in
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the bathroom. ran into my sister in the living room. "anybody call?" i
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asked her.
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"yep," she said.
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she's always so difficult.
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"_who?_"
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"some girl."
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"who?"
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"i don't know. she was crying."
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my voice caught in my throat. so it _was_ a brilliant plan, mostly
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because it had worked. she had appreciated my lack of presence. she had
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thought of me. she gave a shit. i was important. thank you, world.
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"where was she?"
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"at some party you were at. she said she helped you in the back,
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something about a snapple. she said you shouldn't drink."
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"oh," i said. my throat loosened, my stomach dropped, and i walked
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upstairs, put on a CD. i didn't even wonder how she got my number.
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probably my cousin. before i even got a chance to kick my shoes off, the
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phone rang. i jumped, picked it up. it was my cousin. my fists clenched.
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"did you really like the show or were you just saying that?"
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i started writing in my journal.
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"i really liked it, but i'm not feeling well, and i'm going to sleep."
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i hung up the phone without waiting for a response, turned off the
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ringer, hoping he'd understand like he always did. finished the journal
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entry. i pledged not to take such things for granted from then on as i
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climbed into bed. drifting off to sleep, i heard the phone ring in the
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kitchen. my sister opened my door after a few seconds of silence.
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"the phone's for..."
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"tell her to fuck herself," i mumbled.
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"but it's not..."
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"i'm trying to SLEEP."
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"alright," she said, and closed the door.
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she closed the door.
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what a waste.
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i fell asleep in the same position two hours later, repulsed.
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-----
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- styx
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- dropdead@mindspring.com
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- http://www.dto.net/~styx/
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=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
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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.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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= (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. =
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