One time I got in trouble for talking about people on xanga.

www.xanga.com/suicideacidtrip - the name, I made up when I was thirteen and I wanted to do drugs to be cool more than anything else. Little did I know that in February 2008 I would have a terrible acid trip where I indeed DID try to kill myself over and over, trying to jump out of my friend’s car as they drove me to the ER.

Funny how shit works.

Right now I’m watching videos of American soldiers shooting and killing ‘insurgents’ who were just civillians and photographers taking pictures for the website reuters.com, you can find the video if you want. I think it’s funny. When I first made that xanga, and we started the “Iraq Conflict” I thought war was awesome and cool. Then I started working for Greenpeace and thought all violence is wrong no matter what. Once I got fired I realized how apathetic I really am. Fuck it.

I know this girl Katherine, not any more though, she used to cut herself. One day her parents wouldn’t let her out for the night for ‘family time’ and she carved “WHY ME?” into her right wrist. When she showed me I told her that she disrespected everyone I knew who actually had a problem with self-mutilation because she did it for attention, bragged about it and showed everyone she knew. She ended up getting addicted to heroin or something, not sure, that fat bitch wasn’t worth it anyway and should have shaved off some of those love handles.

I knew this dude Will, I saw his dick, it was uncircumcised, when we were little, in the country club pool his mom took us to. He used to eat his scabs for ‘protein’ and I drove him to drugs, mainly cocaine, then heroin, and then he got sent away for so long, he was gone before I got sent to rehab, and didn’t come back until a year and a half after I was out already.

I know this guy Will, another will, he cuts himself too. I call him a fucking faggot and tell him he should die. He took my advice and I went drunk, snorting heroin to the funeral with Katherine and the other Will. You can always get away with being fucked up at a funeral, especially if you knew the person.

One time I tried to kill myself, I got out a knife and rubbed it up and down, I tried so hard to make my wrists bleed but they just wouldn’t. I never told anybody it was a butter knife, and I didn’t even use the sharp end.

I had this friend John who was so gay for me he said the only thing that kept him going all through high school was my face. That my face was what he saw when he tried to hang that belt loop around his neck in his closet every school night. I ended up sending him to rehab too, got him so drunk the first time he drank, made him chug a water bottle of vodka I stole from my uncle who lost his job, life, family, house, and everything because of vodka, and he passed out. I chugged a water bottle too. We were listening to Thursday’s War All the Time and said “hey wouldn’t it be funny if we just made out because we’re so drunk?” and  I woke up with my mother screaming “WHY THE FUCK IS HE PUKING, IS HE DEAD, WHY ISN’T HE BREATHING?” and I punched my mom then ran down the stairs dragging John’s passed out body into the snow of that November night. 

I had this friend Zukes. One night he raped this girl, he raped ten, he raped fifteen fifteen year olds a day. I helped him do it. I got their phone numbers from my sister’s phone when she was sleeping (I let him rape her too, for ONE, count them ONE xanax bar) and texted them posing as my sister (at this point you should realize there’s a plot hole, but since I’m a writer I’ve probably got your attention and imagination, and that’s what I’m practicing here gerbils) to get them to come places, then we’d magically “run into them”. Depending on how anxious or feisty they were, sometimes we had to drug or drunk them up before, and after a while it got boring so we moved to girls we knew. Saw how far we could push them with abuse before they broke down.

One time I stole money from my six year old sister for cocaine and told her it was for a ‘school project’. 

I knew this girl Grennan, but now she goes by the name Roxy Ro, she was addicted to cocaine. She used to hang out with Fall Out Boy, and now she’s a porn star. www.roxysuperstar.com her little sister died, her brother made a power point to that sad Snow Patrol song about cars or something, the presentation at her funeral made my mom cry, she still cries when that stupid song comes on the radio, I cried at the funeral too, and I wasn’t even high or anything. 

I had a friend named Mason, he was a compulsive liar. He told me how his older brother was raising Komodo dragons in their basement. He would go on these tangents, and instead of calling him out on his bullshit, I’d just add fuel to his fire, “You mean the kind of Komodo Dragons that have sulfur in their spit and actually can burn through stuff with their saliva?” he got really excited because I “knew what he was talking about more than anybody else ever did” and it was all because I lied my ass off to him. Everyone else talked shit about him behind his back because they hated how much he made stuff up, but I was fine with it, I accepted who he was because he was my friend, and because it didn’t make him a bad person. I didn’t ever ask why he lied, I just let him do it because maybe he did it to forget about how he was molested when he was little.

Oh lets talk about that, lets talk about all the people I knew who were molested when they were little. Actually, I won’t, because they aren’t interesting, they’re all pretty tame, cute, funny, aren’t affected by it anymore, and none of them have any disorders, they don’t lead dangerous lives. They’re all more mature then the people I know who weren’t molested. So survey says touch your kids.

I knew this girl Marta who said she was raped by her old boyfriend. I dyed my hair to look like him, well not really, I just wanted to be a scenester. He was a scenester, he was more scene than me, he had like seven xanga’s and they all had better, more hardcore names than mine, about bullets, guns, and stuff. One day he asked me to fight him and asked me to meet him somewhere, once I got to the spot it was raining. I wore extra hoodies to soften the blows he’d put on me because I’d never been in a fight. I was so scared. It was dark in that park by my house, and when I kept calling him asking where he was, he finally picked up. He was a his house, in his bedroom, still talking to girls on xanga, his mom came into his room and started yelling at him to clean his room, I started crying and hung up the phone like the pussy I am.

Are you guys pussies? I am. I still haven’t been in a fight and I’d probably cry once it started and the person wouldn’t even want to fight me after it, after seeing how pathetic I really am. And then they’d probably read about it on here and click “like”. 

None of these things happened. I never knew John, I never punched my mom. Both Will’s were made up, Katherine was the name of a girl I cheated on, Marta was my friend’s mom’s dog, Mason is my alter ego, his last name was Jones as well, Mason Jones, yeah, I like the ring of that. 

Are you ugly yet? Are you ugly like me? If you were, would you show it? Would you wear your scars proudly or hide them in the back of your mind? Would you hide who you were, create this fake person you believe everyone would like better? 

Is anyone really pretty?

I think you all are.