,... $$$$ $$$$T""P$$$ba, ,gd&P""T&bg. ,gd&P""T&bg. ggggggggggg $$$$ $$$$$b d$$$$ $$$$b d$$$$ $$$$$b ggggggggggg """"""""""" $$$$ $$$$$$ $$$$$ $$$$$ $$$$$bxxP&$$&P """"""""""" $$$$ $$$$$$ T$$$$ $$$$P T$$$$ $$$"""""" " """" $$$$$$ "T&$bxxd$&P" "T&$bxx$$$$$' " """"""$$$ """ """""" """ 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. [--------------------------------------------------------------------------] [ (c) !LA HOE REVOLUCION PRESS! HOE #969, BY PHAIRGIRL - 12/16/99 ]