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Date Posted: 14:48:36 05/14/02 Tue
Author: ...?...
Author Host/IP: pcp01722813pcs.union01.nj.comcast.net / 68.39.237.138
Subject: :numb: [ kalen ]



:like a battered child i got used to your pain:

:she didn't dare question his place of birth or history... as she recalled her own, she remembered the questions that persona constantly brought before her... and how she hated those quizzical remarks! they had no idea... and they never would. they took everything for grated... living on the streets had definately taught her more than she had ever wanted to know. life, death, cruelty, starvation, desperatation... it was all part of her daily living. and people pitied her, looking down and on and thinking `oh, the poor thing`. then they'd given her food and offer her shelter, which she would, of course, decline, and they would cooly stride away. any offerings would be thrown out:

:dial turns up and down slowly and she responds cautiously:

:bet a whole sh*tload of us don't like where we're from, but we can't change that:

:yet the lies. they could always lies. sometimes the truth was so delicate it had to be protected by an army of lies. lies. that was what she lived by, most likely because she feared the truth:


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