08 September 2006
I am 14
I am 14, it is a miserable year. I am depressed. I am filled with anxiety. I masturbate daily and enjoy playing violent sports. Girls will not give me much in the way of sex. It is the suburbs of Chicago after all. Nice midwestern girls and all that. A couple guys I know are getting it all the time. I enjoy immensely listening to lengthy and surely embellished tales of doing local sluts at our school. Oh if only the lord would see fit to deliver upon me, your pockmarked servant, a nice piece of love in tight blue jeans.
The parents are fighting again. The parents are drinking again. The parents are encountering their own turbulence in our little shack in the suburbs of Chicago. God bless them I say, but they are a bit dull. Sunday dinners are predictably on a spring loaded timer. Who will detonate it and hoist the whole table by its petard across the living room toward the nearest TV? Mother, typically. But father too. Sometimes a kid gets in the act. My big brother or little sister or even myself (but like a diplomatic middle child rarely) exhibits such a petulance that 'Sunday Family' dinner is wrapped up in under ten minutes.
"You children," Mother says and lights a cigarette. She is a smart woman, a creative woman, but her generation all became suburban housewives. Father puts his head into his hand and with the other finishes a last bite before fleeing to the basement. He is a smart man, a creative man, but his generation all became executives, in his case advertising.
Us children watch television. We can usually agree on a program. Sit-coms, dramedies, cop shows, monster movies – we are a very receptive and generous television audience. The kids' TV is upstairs. It is old, heavy. The cat comes in and out through the window in the TV room. It seeks to subdue birds and bring them into the house. Father has put a bell on it, but it has not had much effect on how many birds father must capture with the net specially purchased for the task.
Of course there is a dog. A fat dachshund with a German name. Liebschen sometimes comes upstairs with the kids, but most times she waits for a handout in the kitchen then sleeps by the exhaust vent of the refrigerator. My first memory is when I am a baby and Liebschen came up and we French kissed each other. A huge uproar ensued thereafter, which is why I think it is my first memory.
I am 14 now. Not little anymore. Brother has gone to college and I have assumed his room. Sister has moved to my room, which when we were little was the kids' TV room. Now we each have our own TVs. I do not watch much TV anymore. I am into music and listen a lot to the high school radio station. I am a freshman at this high school. You know the one, the one in that John Hughes movie with the hot girl with big lips. Music and girls are my obsession. Violence and getting wasted close behind.
The music I am into: punk, funk, metal, rock from when I was little, rap and when nobody is around, pop. When I was little I listened to the pop station but now I do only in the shower before school. I put in an old clock radio that turns on whenever you turn on the bathroom light switch. Very convenient.
I smoke about three cigarettes a day and have a recurring rape fantasy I find worrisome. I should not be having masturbation fantasies about raping neighbors right? But that does not stop me from doing it. I feel sick afterwards. I am depressed. Like I said, I am miserable.
When I was little I could pretend to be happy. When I am little I am like 7 and if you have TV and your friends and the weather is good and maybe your friend has gotten ahold of some incendiary devices and you can explode them in dirt mounds as a part of a military action figure scenario. Outside is most important. You have to be able to go outside.
But I am in high school now. I have pubic hair, zits and desire to cum every three hours. Only guilt that I might get addicted keep me from beating the meat 5 times a day. I have been touching myself since I was 8 or so. When I was 12 I tried to stop myself because I felt it was dirty. Now at 14 I now that is hopeless and try to keep the fantasies to nonrape ones.
I wet my bed too. I have done this also since I was little. Now I only do it once in awhile. Especially if I drink too many beers the night before. I guess I am frontloading the bad stuff about me, get that out of the way, then maybe you will feel sorry for me and be generous in your judgement.
High school sucks. I hate it. I cannot get any girls to do stuff with me and I hate every single class I am in. Almost. I like art a little bit, english sometimes, P.E. is not bad because you might get to hit somebody with a stick. Why not go through a typical school day real fast, get you up to speed.
Homeroom: I had to fight my way in to sit with the football players. One of the boys ran away. Our adviser has tepid interest in our futures at best. Tits and where the hell did Muntz go are the hot topics in the beginning of the year.
1st Period: Art. The teacher hates me. I suck at art. I hang out with this guy who is this amazing artist. I am in constant amazement at what he can do with paper and pencil. He also brings in booze occasionally that he steals from his parents. This we drink out of small Tupperware containers in the kiln room.
2nd Period: Radio Communications. A woman teacher and the class is all boys because girls have no interest. The teacher yells at us everday.
3rd Period: Algebra. Christ do I hate math. The teacher hates the whole class. I stare out the window sometimes and get real nostalgic for when I was little.
4th Period: English. Alright sometimes when Shakespeare tells dick jokes.
5th Period: P.E. Thank god. I love going outside and running around.
6th Period: Lunch. A cesspool of social hierarchy. But I am trying to social climb from my geek table to the cool kids because there go all the hot girls.
7th Period: History. Old teacher who is not bad. Fun to learn about Sumeria and human sacrifice.
8th Period: German. Do not fuck around with German teachers. They are some of the toughest people on the planet.
9th Period: Study Hall. Here is where the wags have figure out how to smoke weed in the library and get away with it.
After School: This first semester it is soccer. I am the goalie on the Freshman team. Goalie is a good position because you get to punch, kick and knee people and balls and if you time it right people in the balls. On the downside you do get balls kicked at you from extremely short distances and occasionally you get elbowed or kicked in the head.
There is my fall semester curriculum. School has been going on about a month now. How am I doing in my classes? Badly. I hate school. I hate it. It is so frigging boring. I am not trying to be one of those whiny bitches who complain all the time because they can. I am trying to explain my circumstances. I am not cut out for school. I need to be outside more, or shooting guns or groping a hot girl all night long.
Instead I come home from soccer practice and pretend to do my homework. I hate homework as you might guess. I go down into the basement after dinner, turn on our high school radio station and think about girls.
The parents are fighting again. The parents are drinking again. The parents are encountering their own turbulence in our little shack in the suburbs of Chicago. God bless them I say, but they are a bit dull. Sunday dinners are predictably on a spring loaded timer. Who will detonate it and hoist the whole table by its petard across the living room toward the nearest TV? Mother, typically. But father too. Sometimes a kid gets in the act. My big brother or little sister or even myself (but like a diplomatic middle child rarely) exhibits such a petulance that 'Sunday Family' dinner is wrapped up in under ten minutes.
"You children," Mother says and lights a cigarette. She is a smart woman, a creative woman, but her generation all became suburban housewives. Father puts his head into his hand and with the other finishes a last bite before fleeing to the basement. He is a smart man, a creative man, but his generation all became executives, in his case advertising.
Us children watch television. We can usually agree on a program. Sit-coms, dramedies, cop shows, monster movies – we are a very receptive and generous television audience. The kids' TV is upstairs. It is old, heavy. The cat comes in and out through the window in the TV room. It seeks to subdue birds and bring them into the house. Father has put a bell on it, but it has not had much effect on how many birds father must capture with the net specially purchased for the task.
Of course there is a dog. A fat dachshund with a German name. Liebschen sometimes comes upstairs with the kids, but most times she waits for a handout in the kitchen then sleeps by the exhaust vent of the refrigerator. My first memory is when I am a baby and Liebschen came up and we French kissed each other. A huge uproar ensued thereafter, which is why I think it is my first memory.
I am 14 now. Not little anymore. Brother has gone to college and I have assumed his room. Sister has moved to my room, which when we were little was the kids' TV room. Now we each have our own TVs. I do not watch much TV anymore. I am into music and listen a lot to the high school radio station. I am a freshman at this high school. You know the one, the one in that John Hughes movie with the hot girl with big lips. Music and girls are my obsession. Violence and getting wasted close behind.
The music I am into: punk, funk, metal, rock from when I was little, rap and when nobody is around, pop. When I was little I listened to the pop station but now I do only in the shower before school. I put in an old clock radio that turns on whenever you turn on the bathroom light switch. Very convenient.
I smoke about three cigarettes a day and have a recurring rape fantasy I find worrisome. I should not be having masturbation fantasies about raping neighbors right? But that does not stop me from doing it. I feel sick afterwards. I am depressed. Like I said, I am miserable.
When I was little I could pretend to be happy. When I am little I am like 7 and if you have TV and your friends and the weather is good and maybe your friend has gotten ahold of some incendiary devices and you can explode them in dirt mounds as a part of a military action figure scenario. Outside is most important. You have to be able to go outside.
But I am in high school now. I have pubic hair, zits and desire to cum every three hours. Only guilt that I might get addicted keep me from beating the meat 5 times a day. I have been touching myself since I was 8 or so. When I was 12 I tried to stop myself because I felt it was dirty. Now at 14 I now that is hopeless and try to keep the fantasies to nonrape ones.
I wet my bed too. I have done this also since I was little. Now I only do it once in awhile. Especially if I drink too many beers the night before. I guess I am frontloading the bad stuff about me, get that out of the way, then maybe you will feel sorry for me and be generous in your judgement.
High school sucks. I hate it. I cannot get any girls to do stuff with me and I hate every single class I am in. Almost. I like art a little bit, english sometimes, P.E. is not bad because you might get to hit somebody with a stick. Why not go through a typical school day real fast, get you up to speed.
Homeroom: I had to fight my way in to sit with the football players. One of the boys ran away. Our adviser has tepid interest in our futures at best. Tits and where the hell did Muntz go are the hot topics in the beginning of the year.
1st Period: Art. The teacher hates me. I suck at art. I hang out with this guy who is this amazing artist. I am in constant amazement at what he can do with paper and pencil. He also brings in booze occasionally that he steals from his parents. This we drink out of small Tupperware containers in the kiln room.
2nd Period: Radio Communications. A woman teacher and the class is all boys because girls have no interest. The teacher yells at us everday.
3rd Period: Algebra. Christ do I hate math. The teacher hates the whole class. I stare out the window sometimes and get real nostalgic for when I was little.
4th Period: English. Alright sometimes when Shakespeare tells dick jokes.
5th Period: P.E. Thank god. I love going outside and running around.
6th Period: Lunch. A cesspool of social hierarchy. But I am trying to social climb from my geek table to the cool kids because there go all the hot girls.
7th Period: History. Old teacher who is not bad. Fun to learn about Sumeria and human sacrifice.
8th Period: German. Do not fuck around with German teachers. They are some of the toughest people on the planet.
9th Period: Study Hall. Here is where the wags have figure out how to smoke weed in the library and get away with it.
After School: This first semester it is soccer. I am the goalie on the Freshman team. Goalie is a good position because you get to punch, kick and knee people and balls and if you time it right people in the balls. On the downside you do get balls kicked at you from extremely short distances and occasionally you get elbowed or kicked in the head.
There is my fall semester curriculum. School has been going on about a month now. How am I doing in my classes? Badly. I hate school. I hate it. It is so frigging boring. I am not trying to be one of those whiny bitches who complain all the time because they can. I am trying to explain my circumstances. I am not cut out for school. I need to be outside more, or shooting guns or groping a hot girl all night long.
Instead I come home from soccer practice and pretend to do my homework. I hate homework as you might guess. I go down into the basement after dinner, turn on our high school radio station and think about girls.
