Jen-Ok, ill start from the beginning, if there ever was a beginning. My life just seemed to appear one day, like a really bad joke someone is playing on me. The problem with that is I have no sense of humor. I feel trapped, I feel free, I feel as if one day ill come to
realize that I have been dreaming since I was one. The only way for me to wake up is to realize my life is a dream someone else is having. Im stuck trying to find out a way to just deal until I can not feel anymore, not that I feel anything now that is. All I do know is,
with a life this bad, why not be bad.
Jack-I stair into the black hole that is my wallet as I realize I am out of money. People are starting to stair. I begin to perspire. The Dealer is starting to turn red as he reaches for his gun. I do not think a half a gram is worth my life, but if I was able to let my
life walk out the door because of drugs why not let drugs be the end of my life. The dealer's name is Ken, 33, 6'4", 245lbs. He lives in his brothers house and sells in his living room while is brother is at work. Knoe full well if he gets busted his brother would lose
his job and house. Ken's girlfriend is Monica Lowball, we do drugs together, we last hooked up Sunday night in my car. Ken does not know, but I don't want him to know because he is the only dealer on campus. Looking at an empty wallet while you have a gun
pointed at your balls and people all around, this is the reason Jen did not want to get involved with me. I can not blame her, I mean she needs her space. I feel a sharp pain go across my face as Ken smacks me with the gun. I hit the floor like bowling ball hitting a
hard wood floor. I lay there as Ken tells me "no fucking money, no fucking drugs, Kapeese?" He walks off with Monica and leaves me lay there blood running down my cheek and I think to myself, Hey, maybe Starr has some hash in his room.
Starr- Looking up at the clouds makes me feel so alive for all the wrong reasons. Every time my glasses fog up I have to stop and rub them, which becomes a pain in the ass. I am on my way to the mail room when I seen Ken and Monica walk out of the
Subway next to the mailroom and I cant help but over hear Ken saying to Monica that Jack Hour is going to have a massive headache tomorrow. I think nothing of it as I enter the mail room. Mail Box number 445 with the word Faggot spray pained over the
numbers. I know being one of the few gay guys at this college would not be easy, but I cant help it. My parents wanted me to come here. I wanted to move in with my boyfriend Bobby last year but that did not happen so I must make a career. I open the box and
see I have four new letters. Letter 1; Dear Starr: We miss you dude, we need to go dancing again at the gay bar down the street, remember? Well im hung over so im going to stop writing and get some sleep. When will you call me again?? Love John. Why do
people ask questions in a letter, it is so meaningless. Letter 2; Dear Starr: How is this term going, come home for Christmas, please, your father will be ok with it this time. Please, for me. Love Mom. I don't think ill go home, dad never wants me around. Letter 3;
Beholder, look into your eyes and see your future. Starr you need not worry about what is to come for you. Sone you will feel new things and care for things you never knew where there. Although you time is limited you must make the most of you life. All your
lives. Tonight you will dream the future. Don't wake up. I start to laugh as I though the letter in the trash next to me. Some fool with a sick sense of humor I guess. Letter 4; Bill, trash.
realize that I have been dreaming since I was one. The only way for me to wake up is to realize my life is a dream someone else is having. Im stuck trying to find out a way to just deal until I can not feel anymore, not that I feel anything now that is. All I do know is,
with a life this bad, why not be bad.
Jack-I stair into the black hole that is my wallet as I realize I am out of money. People are starting to stair. I begin to perspire. The Dealer is starting to turn red as he reaches for his gun. I do not think a half a gram is worth my life, but if I was able to let my
life walk out the door because of drugs why not let drugs be the end of my life. The dealer's name is Ken, 33, 6'4", 245lbs. He lives in his brothers house and sells in his living room while is brother is at work. Knoe full well if he gets busted his brother would lose
his job and house. Ken's girlfriend is Monica Lowball, we do drugs together, we last hooked up Sunday night in my car. Ken does not know, but I don't want him to know because he is the only dealer on campus. Looking at an empty wallet while you have a gun
pointed at your balls and people all around, this is the reason Jen did not want to get involved with me. I can not blame her, I mean she needs her space. I feel a sharp pain go across my face as Ken smacks me with the gun. I hit the floor like bowling ball hitting a
hard wood floor. I lay there as Ken tells me "no fucking money, no fucking drugs, Kapeese?" He walks off with Monica and leaves me lay there blood running down my cheek and I think to myself, Hey, maybe Starr has some hash in his room.
Starr- Looking up at the clouds makes me feel so alive for all the wrong reasons. Every time my glasses fog up I have to stop and rub them, which becomes a pain in the ass. I am on my way to the mail room when I seen Ken and Monica walk out of the
Subway next to the mailroom and I cant help but over hear Ken saying to Monica that Jack Hour is going to have a massive headache tomorrow. I think nothing of it as I enter the mail room. Mail Box number 445 with the word Faggot spray pained over the
numbers. I know being one of the few gay guys at this college would not be easy, but I cant help it. My parents wanted me to come here. I wanted to move in with my boyfriend Bobby last year but that did not happen so I must make a career. I open the box and
see I have four new letters. Letter 1; Dear Starr: We miss you dude, we need to go dancing again at the gay bar down the street, remember? Well im hung over so im going to stop writing and get some sleep. When will you call me again?? Love John. Why do
people ask questions in a letter, it is so meaningless. Letter 2; Dear Starr: How is this term going, come home for Christmas, please, your father will be ok with it this time. Please, for me. Love Mom. I don't think ill go home, dad never wants me around. Letter 3;
Beholder, look into your eyes and see your future. Starr you need not worry about what is to come for you. Sone you will feel new things and care for things you never knew where there. Although you time is limited you must make the most of you life. All your
lives. Tonight you will dream the future. Don't wake up. I start to laugh as I though the letter in the trash next to me. Some fool with a sick sense of humor I guess. Letter 4; Bill, trash.