=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= = F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= emotional skin -------------- "jesus christ michelle, it's like walking on eggshells around you. can't you ever just take what i say literally? why do you have to twist everything that i say?" oh no, here she goes again. fuck. michael ran his hand through his long dark hair in frustration and looked at his girlfriend, who was sprawled on the couch, idly smoking a cigarette, her grey eyes flat and uncaring. "i am not twisting anything, michael. i can just tell how you feel. you don't even have to say anything. i just know. and you think i am a total bitch, don't you? don't you? tell me the truth. i want to know." fuck, fuck. all i want to do is go out with my friends, and she keeps pulling this shit on me. what the hell is wrong with her? "what do you want me to say? if i say no, you'll say i am lying. if i say yes, you'll leave and do something stupid. the same cycle, over and over again michelle. what do you want me to say?" "i want you to tell me what you really think. i want you to be honest with me. fuck, michael. what will it take to just get you to fucking be honest?" michael squeezed his eyes shut and imagined slapping some sense into her. compassion won. "i can't be honest with you. i don't even know how i feel anymore. you twist things around so that i don't know what is me and what it you." michelle put out her cigarette, stretched, and stood. her eyes were still dead, but a single tear escaped. "that's it. it's over. you obviously can't deal with me. not like you promised. not like you said. you are a fucking asshole. you abandoned me! you gave up on me. and you promised you wouldn't. i hate you, michael." huh? what did i do? abandon her? when i am just going out for the night? what the fuck is she talking about? michelle plucked her jeans off of the floor and put them on. "i'm going out for awhile." michael looked at her in amazement. how did we get from there to here? well, fuck her. "michelle..." michelle slapped him once, hard. "don't talk to me, asshole. go to your little group of friends, who hate me anyway, and leave me alone." i'll never understand this girl. then she walked out. emotional skin, part ii michelle laid on the couch and lit a cigarette and looked at her boyfriend, who was getting ready to go out with his friends. she hated it when he went out with his friends. she knew that they hated her, and she knew that they said shit about her behind her back. "michael, why don't you stay here tonight? you know, you, me, together? alone?" michael sighed. "michelle, i already made plans. you do this all the time." anger boiled up inside of michelle, a murderous rage. how dare he? he doesn't love me. his friends are more important than i am. "oh, so now you think i am a bitch. just because i wanted to spend the evening with you. fuck you." "jesus christ michelle, it's like walking on eggshells around you. can't you ever just take what i say literally? why do you have to twist everything that i say?" michelle closed her eyes. not again, no not again. why do i have to be so sick? why do i have to think this way? she opened her eyes and watched michael run his hands through his hair and sigh. great, now he is really mad at me. "i am not twisting anything, michael. i can just tell how you feel. you don't even have to say anything. i just know. and you think i am a total bitch, don't you? don't you? tell me the truth. i want to know." "what do you want me to say? if i say no, you'll say i am lying. if i say yes, you'll leave and do something stupid. the same cycle, over and over again michelle. what do you want me to say?" i want you to tell me that you love me, that you accept me for who i am, that you will not abandon me. i want you to care about me forever. i want you to tell me that i am ok, that you understand. michelle sighed and opened her mouth, teeth gritted. "i want you to tell me what you really think. i want you to be honest with me. fuck, michael. what will it take to just get you to fucking be honest?" "i can't be honest with you. i don't even know how i feel anymore. you twist things around so that i don't know what is me and what it you." sure, blame it on me. as usual. you typical fucking freak. michelle put out her cigarette, stretched, and stood. her eyes were were still dead, but a single tear escaped. "that's it. it's over. you obviously can't deal with me. not like you promised. not like you said. you are a fucking asshole. you abandoned me! you gave up on me. and you promised you wouldn't. i hate you, michael." michelle plucked her jeans off of the floor and put them on. will he care enough to stay? to talk to me? to help me with my pain? to deal with my aloneness? "i'm going out for awhile." "michelle..." michelle slapped him once, hard. please pay attention to me. "don't talk to me, asshole. go to your little group of friends, who hate me anyway, and leave me alone." then she walked out. emotional skin part iii "you have no armor, michelle. you have nothing to protect you from emotional elements." michelle glared at her therapist, bored with the same old same old. "i know that. give me prozac and i will be on my merry little way." michelle's therapist sighed, wrote out a prescription, and handed it to her. "you know, you really need to combine..." "medication with therapy, pure medication is contraindicated with borderline personality disorder. yeah, i know. but guess what, doctor? i've been doing this for 10 years, and i really don't have faith in the oracle of bullshit anymore. thank you, doctor. when you find a cure, let me know." "you need therapy." "yeah? tell my insurance company. thanks for the drugs, doc." then she walked out. - Palpable Obscure =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= = Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = = Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= = To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = = "subscribe fuck". 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