256 lines
11 KiB
Plaintext
256 lines
11 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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just because
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for the hundredth time today i had to walk a "system admin" through
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installing components on his machine. for the hundredth time today i
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have had to explain, albeit patiently, that the internet is not down
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and that the person was dialing their own phone number.
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i had to remind yet another person that email is not to be used for
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transferring large files. i am sick of people customers emailing me asking
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me for help, when i am at home.
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i am burnt out.
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i am emotionally tired.
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getting up for work is getting to be impossible. I want nothing more than
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to snuggle deep under my comforter and not move. i want to re-read
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everything that i own, and spend inane amounts of money on books and just
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read.
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i want to paint.
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i want to shrug all my responsibilities and just paint. i have NEVER told
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anyone of this but i want to go to art school. i know that i will be at
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best, okay, but its something i want to do.
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i want to create.
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i want to sculpt, get messy and relax.
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i want to be free.
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nothing is -mine-. This realization has come to me as of fairly recently.
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i have always slept in someone else's bed, lived with
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friends/lovers/parents. used their dishes, watched their television,
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listened to their problems. nothing speaks of me. i always felt like a
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guest. even now, in the house i share, the only thing that speaks of "me"
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is the plaid trunk in the living room, and the diet coke in the fridge. I
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am still ruled by my parents 2500 miles away, who buy guilt trips now that
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my brother is out here in California for college.
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my responsibilities have always been to pay rent, council
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friends/parents/lovers, run errands, take care of them, shop for them, do
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their laundry and clean their house. it was my 'responsibility' because i
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lived there.
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i want to take care of 'me' and no one else.
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i have never been 'free'.
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i want to garden.
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i have been admitting that as of late, this gardening urge. when I was a
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small child, we had a 'garden' that ran the length of the house in the
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backyard. and i loved to play in the mud. loved to watch the flowers i
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planted grow, watching the them bloom. it was so beautiful. when se7en and
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i lived together, it was always an argument when i bought wild flowers.
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"You said you hated flowers." how very wrong he was.
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i don't want to be responsible for anyone's problems. i don't want to be
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responsible for someone getting to work on time, for going to appointments,
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for paying their bills.
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i don't want to be responsible for keeping them from loneliness or for
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entertaining them.
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i know what i do want.
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i want someone to appreciate me for me. To brush my hair after I take a
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bath. To play chess with me. To run naked under the moon. I want someone I
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can read to, who will surprise me "just because".
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i am tired of being aggressive. i am tired of being the one who is the
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cold hearted bitch. i am tired of always leading the way.
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i want someone to kiss me first.
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i want to be courted. i want to be appreciated and i want to be loved.
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for me.
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i hate California.
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i hate the constant sunshine. the constant shallowness of just about
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everyone i have met. i hate the weather and i hate where i live. i spend
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most of my time after work locked up in my room. my few attempts at
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getting a social life are still brewing slowly. but. its not the same.
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i miss being back east.
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i miss the weather changing.
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i miss snow.
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i miss the smell of the crispness of the air when it was changing weather.
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i miss how strong i felt when spring came around, as if i was being reborn.
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when i came to California in may, everyone was told something different.
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maybe some day, i will tell the true story, but all you need to know is i
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had to get out. the chance was offered, so i took it. i had to get out of
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Michigan, and the oppressiveness and the death that surrounded me there.
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here in California! dreams came true. mine became a nightmare. i was
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alone, scared, and afraid. 'just come home' danny said. 'i can't!' i
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cried. i can't admit failure to you, to everyone, especially to me.
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you can never escape your problems. things here were, at best, a flop. i
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smiled and said 'its okay, im fine'. when they weren't. no one knew the
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intense loneliness, the almost weekly crying, i never cracked in public.
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i couldn't crack.
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sometimes i get so alone, that the only one worth talking to is me. how
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could i possibly explain my situation to someone, and have them laugh in
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my face. it wasn't worth the humiliation.
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no matter how much i hate it here, i won't regret the move. the only
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reason that i will not regret is because of what i have learned since i
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have been here.
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i am responsible for no one but me.
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i don't have to do anything i don't want to.
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i am not a whore. i am a person with feelings/desires/dreams who has every
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right to demand to have those things fulfilled.
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i am not someone whose only good for 'computers and sex'.
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i am a not as cynical as i thought i was.
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my god, how innocent i am. i laugh when i think about it. street smart,
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maybe, but innocent all the same.
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how naive i can be with my big mouth.
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i am tired of saying 'should be' instead of saying 'could be'.
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i am making plans once again.
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i am moving.
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away from California i will fly. no more San Francisco for me. the people
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here are too hard, too shallow, too materialistic. it is reflected
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everywhere. i am tired of running for something that isn't me anymore.
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i don't belong here.
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i don't know where i belong, but it is not here.
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i want to be somewhere that fits me. maybe Boston. maybe new york. maybe
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Atlanta. who knows.
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anywhere but here.
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i am tired of pretending.
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i am tired of pretending everything is okay.
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its not okay.
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i am 25.
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THIS IS THE ONLY LIFE I HAVE!
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i have been thinking about this for awhile. letting close friends know.
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i want to move back east.
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i want to have my OWN apartment.
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i want messy towels on the floor, dishes piled up, and i can't complain
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about it to no one because its MY responsibility.
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i want to shut off my goddamn computer and live.
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i want to go on a real date with someone who could careless about my past.
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i want to be suprised with flowers.
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i want to kiss someone at my front door and then walk inside alone.
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i want someone who will call me just because they missed talking to me.
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i don't want to deal with email, IRC or anything remotely having to do with
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computers.
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i want someone to play chess with. to go to plays/operas with. i want
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someone to go to concerts and to discuss THINGS with.
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i want someone to seduce ME
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to talk about our interests, to both love the same things. i want someone
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to tell me i am beautiful.
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just because.
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i want to look at someone and say 'i love you' and mean it. REALLY MEAN IT.
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i don't want to be waylaid into guilt trips with the 'no one has loved me
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like you' crap.
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i am so sick of that.
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se7en did it, danny did it.
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michael did it.
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fuck you guys.
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not one of you knew crap about me. and never took the time to ask.
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i bet not one of them could guess my favorite book, movie or song.
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what my favorite meal was, or what kind of perfume i wore.
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I AM NOT YOUR MOTHER AND I WILL NOT TAKE CARE OF YOU!
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i refuse to be in destructive relationships because 'you love me' shit.
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i am no longer giving my love away freely. now it has to be earned. and if
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i die alone with nine cats, then so be it. i am not longer letting my
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priorities slide because someone "could" be the right man. and if he is not,
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i will not try and change him, I will not try and "work on him" i will
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just let it go.
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i refuse to be be guilt-tripped into staying with/sleeping with anyone
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because of 'your feelings'. Aren't my feelings fucking important? Yes,
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they are!
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no more sister, nope, not this chick.
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no more.
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i have decided to go celibate. no more half assed romances, no more blind
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dates. no more lust ridden affairs, where after you fuck you look at the
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person and go "why the fuck did i just do that for?". no more hanging my
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heart on my sleeve and looking to make it work. no more phone sexing ex's
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because of reminicising old memories.
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i am cutting you all off.
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i have always had dreams. i have always let my dreams slide because i
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didn't think they would fit into real life. and that was my biggest
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mistake ever.
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and i will not pay for it any longer. i will not continue to hurt myself
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or deny myself anymore.
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i want peace.
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so i am making plans again. i am going someplace that *i* want to go to.
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looking at schools that *i* want to go to. getting a job because it
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*suits* me instead of being saddled at an ISP doing tech support. and i
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won't be yelling at customers all day because i am bored, and i am tired.
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and looking out my window at the gridlock of cars coming off the bay
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bridge is MUCH more entertaining then talking about network topography.
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i want to slack back into my dreams.
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i want to reach for my goals.
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for me.
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just because i can.
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- Simunye
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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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= To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with =
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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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=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
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= AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK =
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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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= (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. =
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