THiiS iiS MY CURSE: Kane Matthew Davis
A LiiFE TiiME iiN iiTSELF: Twenty-Three
ii MiiGHT ALLOW YOU TO LiiVE: May Fifth
ii WONT MiiND iiF YOU TOUCH ME THERE: Homosexual
ii CANT LOOK IN THIS MiiRROR: [Because] [Hate] [Myself]
CONViiCTED FOR: Caught with 2kilo's of Cocaine in his glove compartment.
ii LiiVE FOR THiiS: "Do not wish to be anything but what you are, and try to be that perfectly." - St. Francis De Sales
ii HATE COUNSiiLiiNG: To whom ever it may concern - which isnt many if you havent figured it out yet. No one in this place wants to know who you are, or what you like its just a thing. Yet I should tell you that I'm a very conserved person. I hate being open and talking about my feelings and I've been this way ever since I was a mere child. I would keep to myself and just hold all of my emotions inside and put myself through hell with it. I would cry myself to sleep so no one knew I was hurting. I may have stopped crying, but I never stopped hurting and keeping these emotions inside of me. Yea I know its unhealthy, but if its as bad as most therapists say - may some ulmighty god strike me down.
But ******** that, its besides my whole point! I'm not just a bottled up person, I'm funny and outgoing when I'm in the mood to be - I'm like a pregnant woman all the time, I cant hold in my outbursts but I can hide my emotions. So I pretty much wear a mask of emotions if you really want to know that badly. So in all reality I'm a fake, a total and utter fake of a human being. Then again, I'm also technically 'emotionally unreachable' or 'emotionally ditatched'. What ever that may mean, because I know but feel not like explaining, I just have to say one thing. ******** the god damn Psychologists, the Therapists, and those bastardous Psychiatrists! They know nothing, they just lable you by how you feel and get by things. Those assholes are emotionless themselves. So where do they get off telling me I need pills and 'anti-depressants'.
To top all of this off though, I'm quite sensative. When I put all these walls down, and let my mask fall to the floor and shatter, I would cry if a kitten was missing a leg. Its a horrible thing to feel all these way's in one lifetime - but its part of my punishment I guess. You should really try to get to know me, I'm quite a knee slapping guy, but in all honesty, you probably wont see the real me because I havent let my walls down in over six years. And when I was sixteen, I had never let it down before that, so really you are probably out of luck. Since I trust no one anymore, its me for myself and thats all I really have to say about that.
NOW ii'M STANDiiNG iiN THE SPOT LiiGHT: As a child I lived in a broken home. It wasnt like the house was broken down itself, it was actually quite cozy and warm. It was big enough for a family of four, but I lived with a family of three. It was me, my older sister, and my Father. Now most people assume that my mother divorced my father for abusing her and us and she just left us because she was afraid, but it was quite the opposite. She died giving birth to little old me. I look like her, and somewhat like my father. The point to this is, is that my father hated me, and would beat me day in and day out when I could talk and realize what he was actually saying. Those words of his echoed in my mind each and everyday. Thats part of the reason why I'm so emotionally withdrawn. I cried and then told myself that I should toughen the ******** up - so I did. I just started to act out and scream and yell, get in trouble in school and forget to do my work for it.
Then I was a teenager and it all went downhill from there. When I was thirteen I went to juvie for five months because I ran away and assulted a cop when he tried to cuff me to bring me in as a run away. They didnt believe me because they said I was emotionall distressed because of my mothers death and that it was getting to me as a teenager so I was lashing out. So guess what? They sent my a** packing and right back to my fathers door step. I tried to stay away as much as possible, sleeping over a few friends houses. My older sister had felt bad and would tell me that when she hit twenty she was going to take me away, she was only seventeen at the time. A wonderful four year different didnt help though, she turned eighteen and moved away when my father began to abuse her also. Thats when all the s**t really started to set it, I would just stay at a friends house and not come home for weeks at a time.
The worst part to all of this is that when I was fifteen I met a man at a job I had with a friends older brother. He was twenty four and I didnt really give a s**t. Thats when I really found out that well, I liked other guys. He told me whenever it got too bad at my place, I could come sleep over his house. Yet I didnt know that he was into drugs, and would soon get me into them. A mere year later I was driving my car around and he had suddenly called me, telling me to meet up with him and that he needed me to take something back to his house quickly. Figures I was so in love with him that I did what he asked, I took two ******** kilo's of cocaine that he stole from someone and began to drive off, and what did the a*****e do? He called the cops and gave them my liscens plate number, saying that I was dealing drugs with people. The cops got me, found it in my glove box, and I was found guilty. Of course I wasnt found guilty just of that, he had stashed illegal guns under my seats and had been a witness who was sitting on the stand. I remember it clearly, him saying that he saw all of this happen, and that he had tried to stop me before.
So there I was, trialed as an adult, going to jail for fifteen years for all of this, since I still again assulted a cop and almost killed them. So they made me a bargan, plead guilty and you have fifteen to twenty five years. I agreed, and pleaded guilty. So thats were I ended up, a convicted criminal sitting in a jail cell rotting away slowly. I had been in that place for six years, and I could no longer take it. So what did I do? I escaped, I ran for it at night, with a little help from a few other convicts that couldnt take the mere smell of that horrid place anymore. When I got out, I contacted my sister, and now I'm stashed away in her house, and at times I have to hide in the old ladies across the hall because she's practically blind and cant tell that I'm one of the convicts on T.V. that they are talking about. And now I really have no idea what I'm going to do, probably try and get back at that drug dealing man who I heard has a new lover, who is around my age, maybe a year or two younger. I just really dont know what to do with myself anymore. I think I'm going crazy, and its not a good thing.
THiiS iiS ALL ii NEED:
+Comfortable Clothing
+Shaving
+Sleep
+Good Food
+Soft Sheets/Blankets
+Humor
+Movies
+Night Time
+Mint Gum
+Starbucks
PLEASE KiiL ME NOW:
-Selfishness
-Pricks
-People who feel they know everything
-My Mother
-Anything Overly Obnoxious
-Having nothing to do/being bored
-Hamburger Helper
-p***y's [litterally and in other ways]
-Country Music
-Dolls
ii CALL HiiM MASTER: Ray T. Akaru
