Chapter Two

The time after graduation is always quiet; you never know when the sounds you hear are only things you think you hear, much like my vision that declining a little bit every year, I always seem to see something in the distance. But you can't let things like that get you down, when you have a book to write. You might have only this life to write the story of your life.

High school was a boxing match filled with deranged men, and you're not the one wearing clothes. You're also female, and a peaceful protester in the field of the game of resistance movements. If high school were like a government, it would be paddling your body forever and ever with no stop in sight. The only reason I never was, was largely do to luck. The region was not exactly liberal. You were liberal if you were a high school that bragged about how little you paddled students. Apparently some pretty boy student I heard about never guessed it was a liberal school.

In art class girls would wear potato shoes, and spend their time doing shit to tease me that was not explicitly mean. There was a blond who would do things to try to get my attention, and then claim "Oh shit now, I knew I shouldn't have cut my hair." She were a little lengthy pixie cute, her greenish eyes the color of prairies and country girls murdered by robot soldiers, her head displayed on the sidewalk going splat. You was exactly that kind of girl: cute as fuck, total buzz kill.

She and her friend would pay particular attention whenever I drew or painted something weird, especially it was different. Even if I got a bad grade for it. So most of my time in art was spent trying to do weird things to see her potato shoes.

I like girls in clogs.

Although every now and then this would go to far, and girls wearing shoes you liked would dangled them exposing their feet. It took thought control not to ask for a date out of impulse. So most school days was reading books checked out of the library. That wasn't the only reason, cyberspace girls and characters were the only women I didn't hate, or get weird trigger feelings whenever someone made a sex joke.

You would still have a mysterious cheer leader checking you out, even if there wasn't any of them to find you attractive. Before the complete and total French took over the United States when the British still had territory, it wasn't uncommon for me to even dig the French girls. I'd probably still date one, as long as they didn't mind hate fucking.

Even if I hate you personally, there was always a chance I took a picture of you out of a yearbook, and keep it as a desktop wallpaper. I kept it in a folder full of girls about to get the chop. I imagined stories of girls using the term chopping day in the same way girls in the country would use shopping day. There being always be little knick knacks related to guillotine trinkets being sold in book shops and other stories. I would be walking around my room with a constant erection, and it never went away unless I read the stacks of serial killer novels on my bookshelf.

Why do I choose to retell my young adult years?

Cause I had no childhood. I was a child, and my characters were a child. But there was no Kingdom by the sea. I drowned in poems by Edgar Allen Poe, who for a long time I had considered my artistic influence. His poetry standing in defiance despite the approval by the established order. It didn't occur to me that would feel like plan, but life can be weird. I wonder how Annabelle Lee was doing in her poetry world, I haven't drop in to have a chat.

If you are wondering what being a plan means, well if you watched the amount of UFO documentaries I did then often they might mention people who would come out of the blue to reveal some big secret. The secret usually being some aspect of hidden technology held from us by our government masters. However at the time I would have put it in far more generous terms. After all, I was a child and my favorite author was a child, but some of the UFO community can kind of be total jackasses.

So I would spend my time reading or watching.

Used to skateboard, not anymore. When you have a cousin who always calls you a poser, it's bound to effect your self-esteem in some way.

I want to die in my own way.

I had issues with blond girls for a very long time, that was part of why it was out of character for me to court Anna-Marie. But sometimes you got to break your preconceived ideas about people to give them a chance. Unfortunately most of the blonds I met never gave me the chance. If you don't want to give me the chance, I feel like, life is way to short to spend time where you're hated. And if you hate me, there is a very good chance I'll give you three fold return. It's just how my mind works. So most of the time instead of trying to court anyone, I spend more time watching crowd source videos of decapitated chicks ripped from movie scrolls.

Although this was fun, it also got more boring. After a while even reading serial killer true crime books got boring after a while. On some level I related to Dahmer, before I realized I wasn't actually a man or necrophiliac. Or going around slaughtering girls on the home range. I do like my free range meat, although that's generally exclusive to eating chicken or fish. Not spring chicken. Some of the smaller women in my class, I have considered licking their toes.

But I'm not much for long pig.

Doesn't taste as well on a spit. You might find me a piece of shit, but for now I'll leave you to my kitchen to eat a banana split. Besides Banana tastes better than people. No not dicks, I'm not gay for men. It was only later I realized it was because I'm not actually a man at all.

I prefer peanuts in a free fall.

Nuts falling, falling, falling into my mouth. Young women's Jesus clogs being licked with, with my mouth. God damn, I need SRS.

I grew up hating my erection.


Fairy Dust



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