💾 Archived View for gemini.spam.works › mirrors › textfiles › magazines › HOE › hoe-0911.txt captured on 2022-06-12 at 12:45:52.

View Raw

More Information

-=-=-=-=-=-=-

                ,...
                $$
                $$T""P$$ba,  ,gd&P""T&bg.   ,gd&P""T&bg.              
 ggggggggggg    $$    $$$b d$$    $$b d$$   $$$b   ggggggggggg
 """""""""""    $$    $$$ $$$    $$$ $$$bxxP&$&P   """""""""""
                $$    $$$ T$$    $$P T$$                      
 $$"""""" "    """"    $$$  "T&$bxxd{body}amp;P"   "T&$bxx$$


   " """"""$$
 """                    """"""                                         """
 ggg                 "October Rust and Why My Life Sux"                ggg
 $$                            by -> Misfit                           $$
 $$                                                                   $$
 $$              (* HOE E'ZINE RELEASE #911 -- 11/30/99 *)          .,$$
 `"""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""'

	After high school, the summer of '96, is when the whole thing
 finally started to go downhill.  Sure, we had our problems before that,
 living the gothic-meets-sid-and-nancy life, with abnormal consumption of
 drugs, the cheating, lying, self-absorption, and manipulation, but that
 was how it was supposed to be.

	But it kept getting worse.  Late at night, drunk on wine we had
 stolen from her house, struggling to stay away from the drugs, always
 calling me, convinced that my twisted love for her would set me free of
 those chains.

	It never worked.

	But thru it all, I can remember the good times, listening to
 Stabbing Westward on top of my beat-up 85 Chevy at 1:00am after I got out
 of work, drinking and screwing like the world would end any moment.  
 Having to scale the fence and climb to the second floor window to see her
 for those few minutes.  That made it all worthwhile, right then all our
 hatred for each other would melt away leaving no evidence it ever
 existed.

	More than anything, our love of sex kept us together.  The same
 thing that tore us apart.  It was only a matter of time before a
 relationship like this exploded, but somehow we managed to keep making it
 work, amazing myself how I could so deeply love someone that I hated so
 dearly.

	When it exploded, so did I.  That me died years ago, left in a
 corner writhing in agony as I swore to myself that I would never allow
 myself to be that way again.  I couldn't handle another relationship as
 intense and lustful as this was, I knew it would kill me.

	So I buried it all.  I left the real me behind, and pretended it
 didn't exist.

	When I look in the mirror, I find it hard to believe the person
 staring back is me.

	Sure, every now and again, I'd find myself thinking the same way I
 used to, but I never really took notice of it.  But now, once again, on
 this cold October afternoon, I listen to those same sweet agonizing
 songs, the ones that defined my life, my attitudes, my hatred to all, but
 mostly to me.

	And people say I'm not gothic enough.  I think the biggest
 requirement of the gothic movement is the self-hatred you feel, the
 attitude that you must have been some sort of mistake, you aren't meant
 to be here.

	But I digress.

	After all this time, sitting here, typing this on my cubicle, part
 of the machine I loathed so dearly, I notice how little I've really
 changed.  Damn her for coming back into my life.  Damn me for making the
 first step.

[--------------------------------------------------------------------------]
[ (c) !LA HOE REVOLUCION PRESS!   HOE #911 - WRITTEN BY: MISFIT - 11/30/99 ]