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I am
My Unkymood Punkymood (Unkymoods)
Pubococcygeal
Friday. 2.8.08 3:53 am
What makes a man a man?

I always thought I knew the answer to this.
I thought what makes a "man" meant nothing more than the male genitals. Culturally speaking, it's about the only thing everyone can agree on.
Then things began to get fuddled. Middleschool began and everyone started seperating. The girls wanted to be with girls and the guys wanted to be guys. Each discussing similar interests. Boys spoke about cars, tv, hunting, sports, and sex. Girls spoke about boys and petty social things, like how Jenniffer totally looked like a slut with all that make-up and how she used to be cool until she totally backstabbed her best friend for some stupid boy.
I never really fit into either of those catagories. I felt boys were too insensitive and rather stupid about things they spoke about. Girls never really invited me into their circles because I was a boy and who really wanted to hang out with a bunch of giggly, moody girls anyway?
Slowly I began to make friends with those who also seemed to be social outcasts. Luckly it seemed that outcasts thrived in public schools. However, the more and more I made friends I noticed that the most accepting where the girls. Guys were so stand-offish and never really talked about anything REAL.
This is when I started to get educated in the real difference between the two...

Now, I'm here.
Still at a loss.

It seems to me now that girls are absolutely the most evil creatures on this planet with nothing but selfish desires to drive them. Meanwhile, though men are slower in thought and make frequent mistakes, they are more sensitive, more loyal, more honest, more true. And let me assure you, not every package carrying bi-ped is a man. Being a man is far more than just that. It takes something that not everyone can achieve. However, the most important trait that I've noticed that true men share is this: they have trully, deeply been hurt by a woman.

I hate to sound so masogynistic. I love women. I love my own mother more than any other thing on this planet. My closest friends ARE women. Not just girls, but women, the utter true and best definition you can find of one.

Yet, through out my life I've done nothing more than to try and please them... Every single one of them. Why? Because I love them. Individually. Not because of their looks, nor their bodies, nor their sex, but because of all that they are, but most importantly, because of the love they've shown me. Love that I have come to fear now. A love that I now recoil from.

A glance. A smile. A second look.
I get them. Not often, but on occassion. They look at me. They see me. They want me. Mentally. Emotionally. Romantically. Spiritually. Sexually.
I speed up my pace. I avoid eye contact. If I could, I would flee in terror.
They no longer offer the same blessings that they once did. A comforting embrace has turned to a bed of thorns. Each thorn pulsing with desire to make me bleed, to draw out my life source and leave me to die. What I claimed to be love has turned sour and bitter in my mouth. And all I can do now is choke on the poisoned apple that once slid so smoothly down my throat.

What has happened to me?
Am I trully as doomed I feel?

I am not content.




But I don't want to fooled again.

The next time...
Well,... there won't be a next time.







P.S. to the PC:

Come on, oh my star is fading
I swerve out of control
If I, If I'd only waited
I'd not be stuck here in this hole

Come here, oh my star is fading
And I swerve out of control
And I swear I waited and waited
I've got to get out of this hole

But time, is on your side
It's on your side, now
Not pushing you down
And all around
It's no cause for concern

Come on, oh my star is fading
And I see, no chance of release
And I'm dead on the surface
But I'm screaming underneath

And time is on your side
It's on your side, now
Not pushing you down
And all around
Oh, It's no cause for concern

Stuck on the end of this ball and chain
And I'm on my way back down again

Stood on the edge
Tied to a noose
Sick to the stomach
You can say what you mean
But it won't change a sin
I'm sick of the secrets
Stood on the edge, tied to a noose
And you came along but you cut me loose
You came along and you cut me loose
You came along and you cut me loose

- Amsterdam
by the band that inspired the phrase "You know how I know you're gay...?"

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Mischief Managed
Tuesday. 2.5.08 2:09 pm
I find it rather depressing that the most interesting things to happen in my life now are things like getting a new pet. Even more so, finding excitement in naming your new pets. Now, THAT'S depressing.

Jack Bernard Cooper II and Presley Cooper are the two new members of this home. Their mother and sisters are still here right now, but that's only until I get to a chance to go drop them off at Petsmart or Petco so they can be adopted or whatever. Nathan and Ann were the former owners of the rats, but they didn't want all those kids and Gracey, the mom, has recently become a bit vicious and since they have a three year old daughter, they didn't want Gracey to bitting off any of her fingers. They're cute right now, though, the babies in any case. I'm even debating keeping one of the sisters, but I figure that's not really a good idea. Four rats is more than enough. And it wouldn't be good to keep a female rat all by herself. I wouldn't be able to fathom six rats, so it looks like it'll just be Percy, Roger, and the Cooper brothers.

On a side note, I'm broke still. Haven't heard from any of the various places I've applied to.

Denton blows.

Heck, Texas blows.

I want out.

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