=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= = F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= The Beating of my Bones ----------------------- For the last couple years, seven of them to be exact, I have felt this emptiness. One that was describe in the last file I wrote. I mentioned that I liked to inflict physical pain upon myself so that I could drown out the sadness of my heart. Ever since I wrote that file my heart has been as a thunderstorm. Here one second, gone the next, inconstant and never ending. At one particular point, in which I shall now disclose, my heart felt as nothing. My entire body, nothing. So as I have done in the past I started physically abusing myself. First came the liquor. Nothing smooth and refreshing, just straight tequila. It didn't take too long before I was fucked up. The music was refreshing for awhile. God, Mozart knows how to make an opera. As life, operas end. I could have played another, but my bones just weren't into it. It felt like I broke my hand. I certainly broke my refrigerator. However it wasn't enough, I could see my hand turning red and it wasn't enough. I wanted to feel pain as though I never have before. I wanted to feel alive again. For the first time in seven years I wanted to prove that I existed. I am not just some ghost that follows you to work every day. I am not just some reflection in a mirror. I left my house. I never lock the doors. If someone came in and robbed me blind I wouldn't even report it to the police. At least I could say that someone cared enough about the stuff I have to steal them. I am glad I am not a materialistic person. Otherwise I might be upset if moonlight was gone when I got back. Money is nothing, I could always buy another. Since I don't have a car I just walked. Any normal person would not extract such a task upon themselves in my neighborhood. I am just glad I am not normal. I am glad I don't care. I picked the worst neighborhood to live in for a reason. I can walk out of my house every morning and look around to say "My god, I live in the slum of the world, and I am a part of it." It makes me feel better. Walking was a good idea because it didn't take long for what I was hoping would happen to happen. A black low riding civic pulled up slowly behind me. Just a bunch of silly punks looking for some action I imagine. So I stopped walking. Turned around and played innocent. "You guys lost." "I don't think we're the ones lost fool." It was going to happen, I could feel it. I saw that one of them had a gun, there were three of them in all. Were they going to try and kill me? I was looking for a fight, I was looking for someone to beat me to unconscienceness. However I was not looking to die. No matter how much I abstract myself from this world I still love it. "I live in this neighborhood, right down the street. I am just going to the gas station to get some smokes." "You picked the wrong time to go to shopping tonight boy." Boy? Did they call me boy? "I AM NOT A FUCKING BOY!" I ran for the person in front of the guy with the gun. I figured if he was going to shot that thing it was going to be before I got to them, so if I could put someone in between us his chances of hitting the right person would be slim. Besides, he was probably drunk anyway. I threw the person in front of me up against the guy with the gun. He flew back against the car while I threw the guy in front of me onto the ground. While the guy with the gun was trying to recover I was able to kick his hand hard enough to dislodge the gun into someone's yard. Right when I was about to punch him the third guy hit me in the back. It didn't even hurt. I was a little shocked but not in pain. So I decided to play along with it a little more. I wanted these men to beat me, but I wanted them to do it with such vengeance that I would never forget it. I wanted to give them a reason to do it. I quickly spun around and hit him double fisted in the stomach and then chopped him in the throat. It didn't take too long before the other two guys had grabbed my arms. These men were weak. I twisted my arms to get a better grip on them both and then threw myself back pulling them in front of me. This did not have the desired effect I had hoped for. The plan was to get them to smack heads and let go of me, but instead they just sort of ran into each other and then pulled me up and wrapped my arms around my back. This is when the fun started. The third guy was very unhappy about not being about to breath for a minute so he started punching me in the gut. This is when I gave up. He must have punched me twenty times in my gut before they let go of me so that I could throw up on the ground. After that I can't really remember what happened. It seemed like the beating lasted forever but it didn't. After not too long the person whose house I was being beaten in front of came out with a gun and told those guys to "Get the hell out of here." He helped me up. I told him that I was ok, and that I only lived two blocks away and could make it home. He escorted me anyway. Some people in this world aren't too bad. My god, there was so much blood in the sink. I have never felt so happy, so worthless in all my life. Finally, i am alive. Tortured Soul =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= = 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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