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Date Posted: 02:20:32 09/11/01 Tue
Author: Two Faces
Subject: A Letter

Dear Crysta,

I really can't help but hate you sometimes. You took a troubless childhood and filled it with symbolical need and made me wonder what life was worth living inside a bubble. You stayed static while my dreams took me elsewhere, and you've completly drowned me in brilliant disillusion. Bright lights are so childish, and you make me feel like this incomplete teenage old geezer because you can't handle being so green. But only a child can smile so earnestly, and you consistently con me into believing that a smile is what'll get me in.

On another note:

From here I look at you, and see me.

I've lost the honesty somewhere. All I do is write and feel tears come to my eyes because it's all no where near what I'm feeling.

I have to tell myself that tommorrow will be a better than today, but I get so tired thinking of how hard I will have to try.

What keeps me here? I'm always looking for the way out or the way up, but I only look through dusty binoculars.

What keeps me from shoving the pen I play around my lips into the back of my throat?

I used to trace all my problems back to the one boy I for whom I allowed myself to cross the line in the rush for experience. He called me nasty and shot his lust in my mouth, so I spit it back on him hoping for it to soak in his skin. Lord did I cry upside down in my sleeping chair spilling my torn and self-humiliated story to the only friend I could trust. And later she called me a slut.

The words tumble from your lips so easily, just searching the deep wrinkles of your mind as your tounge would in my folds, and I wish I could open to you. You say my voice occasionally quivers. It never used to do that.

I still find comfort knowing that one tiger is out there, still prowling around for the answers I've given up on. Even though I only fantasize his interest in me, I look again for the day we speak to eachother's eyes.

I just can't go and experience things alone. If I want to go out and jump in the rive with all my clothes on, someone has to come and bear witness, or share the experience with me.

I'm so desperate to understand who I am.

Sincerely,
Noodle

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