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 ggg             "An Open Letter To Anyone I've Ever Known"            ggg
 $$                          by -> Phairgirl                          $$
 $$                                                                   $$
 $$        [ HOE E-Zine #969 -- 12/16/99 -- http://www.hoe.nu ]     .,$$
 `"""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""'

	i'm not quite sure why i'm sending you this other than the fact
 that you amuse me or make my day a little more interesting or simply give
 me someone to look up to. any way around it, the matter remains only
 this: that i would probably be dead right now if there wasn't a cat
 sitting on my lap.
	i believe i've finally fucked up my life once again and this time
 for the worst. i have great dreams, great plans, and they're all once
 again wasted and irrelevant and gone. i killed them. i buried them and
 patted the last of the soil on top.
	my life has gone completely to shit. my creativity level is at a
 new low, and all i can seem to do is babble incoherently and remain as
 far from entertaining as any human could possibly stray. my fifteen
 minutes are long since over, in fact, i owe some back, as i squandered my
 minutes and stole those of others.
	there seems to be something inherently wrong with me, as i can't
 seem to complete the most rudimentary of tasks but excel at the difficult
 ones. it reminds me of the story my mom told me about this genius kid
 that graduated with her class who killed himself shortly afterward. there
 was nothing in his life but busy-work and bullshit, and he couldn't take
 it anymore.
	and so i find myself failing a basic computer class for the second
 time... not because it is too hard, but because it's so easy that it's
 stupid. i want my degree but i don't want to do busy work. i can't
 comprehend why i have to spend 3 hours reading the most horrid text ever
 written simply to discover that my project was to cut and paste a
 paragraph and save it to a floppy disk. i can't take it. it makes me want
 to put my head through the first plate glass window i find.
	i've been told many times, "just get the busy work over with, just
 sit down and DO IT and be done with it, and then you can move on." but i
 can't move on. i can't just sit down and do it. i stare at the book, i
 stare at the screen, i find everything so goddamn worthless that i can't
 find any effort inside of me that would make me want to do any of it.
	ahhh well, it was nice thinking i was going to finish a degree. it
 was nice thinking that i might actually be doing something with my life.
 maybe next time.
	in the meantime, i always have my wonderful wendy's job to
 continue. ahhh yes, this wonderful job that it is that i spend 48 hours a
 week doing, 48 hours a week wishing i was dead. 48 hours a week with the
 exact kind of people that i wish the earth would open up and swallow. 48
 hours a week of everything i could possibly not want for my life.
	and so, due to fuckheads, egos, and people i'd rather die than
 associate with any longer, i am searching for a new job. i haven't done
 this in four years. it's traumatic. i have this constant feeling that i'm
 worthless because i've worked at wendy's for four fucking long horrible
 years. i have this constant feeling that i'm worthless because i don't
 have a degree and have to find some way to get a job that will pay my
 bills as well as that fucking AWFUL wendy's job i currently maintain.
	but it's not just the job that makes me feel worthless... it's the
 people. i hate my job. i love so many of my co-workers. i hate so many of
 my co-workers. i don't understand why i'm such a horrible employee that i
 deserve to be watched under lock and key, yet another employee with a
 much worse track record than mine is revered and worshiped... i have no
 idea why.
	i feel bad because i'm in this position where i can do so much for
 the people i care about at work, and i feel i owe it to them, because
 they're suffering from a bad rep. however, i also suffer from a bad rep,
 so i can only do so much. but either way, i'm getting shit on, they're
 getting shit on, and our best option would be to leave, but we're not all
 strong enough.
	strength... what a funny word that is. everyone quickly glances to
 me as if i'm the end-all definition of the word, but i'm anything but. i
 keep up appearances, and with good reason. you can only be taken
 advantage of so many times before an iron wall goes up, that illusion of
 strength that everyone seeks as if it were the pinnacle of greatness.
	just ask houdini... it's all an illusion.
	what nobody knows is that i'm dying inside. i feel myself becoming
 more and more dead, so utterly repulsed with myself that i can't bear to
 show my face. i think about it a lot, dying... it's almost become second
 nature through the years, through my cyclical depression and elation.
 there's just nothing to live for these days. and the only reason i'm not
 dead is because there's a cat on my lap.
	i have almost nothing to live for. i have years ahead of me to
 complete anything remotely resembling what i would like to do with my
 life. i am distracted by stupid things and consumed by apathy. and if i
 had a gun, i would definitely be swallowing it now, as long as there
 wasn't a cat in the room, because they're the only ones keeping me
 afloat.
	there are no people worth living for. i don't remember having
 anyone whose shoulder was open for crying or anyone who would listen or
 could understand. i refuse to go near professionals. i refuse to go near
 chemicals. if all that assistance was what made me feel better, than who
 am i to live for myself? if i'm just living out of someone else's
 creation, am i really worth space? would i really care about myself?
	i have this horrendous pride problem and bitterness with
 everything in this world. i love to sing, i love to act, but i can't do
 anything in front of a crowd. all i can look at is the sea of faces
 seeing exactly what i don't want them to see, and that's me. the
 horrible, ugly me that doesn't do anything noteworthy... just tries and
 fails.
	i have had so many dreams in this lifetime... i've wanted nothing
 more than to immerse myself in music and life it and breathe it and swim
 in it, to maybe taste fame and possibly what it would be like to have
 money and not have to worry about it. i want to create wonderful things,
 to be silly and sad, to be myself completely and not worry about who is
 fucking me over.
	i want friends. i want relationships. i want to do something i
 like every day. i want to not have to worry about people and their
 motives. i want to be open, i want to share, i want to be understood. i
 want to want to live.
	sometimes, i just sit and stare into space and let myself become
 existential and debate my state of being. am i really here? can i be
 somewhere else? will all of this horrible nightmare end and i will wake
 up? none of this feels real anymore. i'm turning numb, and there's
 nothing worse than the numbness. numbness drowns out the pain, but it
 also drowns out life. it drowns out death. everything is the same when
 i'm numb, and changing among those states only feels natural.
	i think i've lost my ability to care about anything. i want badly
 to care about people, because i think i should, but i can't get past
 myself. my fucking self, as if i'm worth being a hurdle. i'm pissed as
 hell about this world and the way people are treated, but i'm not doing a
 damn thing about it. i'm too wrapped up in my own problems. i'm a
 self-centered, hypocritical bitch.
	i fucking hate self pity. i don't pity myself. i only despise
 myself. i despise others who are full of self pity. i despise
 manipulators. i despise people who use their problems as a means to an
 end. here i am, dispensing my feelings, but not looking for anything in
 return. i don't fucking want anyone's pity.
	so what am i looking for... i'm looking to not feel this way, this
 whole grand way. there's not much it would take for me to be even a
 little happy, and that's the hardest part of all. i'm not asking for the
 world, i'm just asking for a little bit of happiness, a little reason to
 live, some kind of hope that i might someday be able to really accomplish
 something and make my own life better.
	i think i am asking too much.
	if i had the guts to kill myself... which i don't, and that's only
 because of this cat sitting on my lap... i guess this would be my suicide
 note. this pathetic attempt at explaining who i am and what is going on
 is all in vain. it's all a bunch of excuses, all a bunch of wistful
 bullshit, all a bunch of tired eyes. it means nothing.
	and to think this cat on my lap is the only thing that is keeping
 me here... i can only wonder how long it will be until it gets up and
 walks away.

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[ (c) !LA HOE REVOLUCION PRESS!          HOE #969, BY PHAIRGIRL - 12/16/99 ]