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Impulse Reality 136
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SWEET FUCKING CHRIST! THE HOODLUMS OF THE IMPULSE BRING UNTO YOU...
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____ ____ ____
_I_R_ | || |\ \
M E | || |/____/ Killing myself from starvation!
P A | || |\ \ ir file number 136
U L |____||____| |____| released 5.4.01
L I | || |\| | by BMC (http://members.home.com/comintern)
S T |____||____| |____| we're just fucking with your mind.
E Y even_god_reads_it
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-oOo-oOo-oOo-oOo-oOo-oOo-oOo-oOo-oOo-oOo-oOo-oOo-oOo-oOo-oOo-oOo-oOo-oOo-
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Killing myself from starvation!
Why would I starve myself to death? This is an easy one. Once I stop
eating I will have a couple weeks or so to find true love and all of the
qualities in a girl that make her the perfect person. It will be a very
slow death, so if there is any reason why I want to change my mind all I have
to do is eat a big mac! See? I have thought of everything.
It will be an easy find to find this girl. She just has to be a socialist,
ambitious, creative, a writer, an english major, a philosopher, 5'8" or 5'9",
130-150 pounds, beautiful, and very intelligent and sensitive. Oh jeah and
she has to not be married or I will just get a broken heart and wish I was
dead.
That brings me back to my suicide plan. I figure once it is in full effect
I have a week or two to write everything I have to say to the world. I hope
I don't get writer's block.
Ok, I had a plate of Caesar salad on Sunday at 1:00, and I would like that
to be my final meal. It has been two days since then... it is now Tuesday
night at 2:46 in the morning. Hey this is another thing that is pushing me
off the edge. I hate how the clock goes past midnight and suddenly when I
ask someone what they're doing tomorrow they get all wise and tell me that
tomorrow is 24 hours away or something... I just want to know what day of
the week it is sometimes, and these fuckers really fuck up my life.
Anyway, I have been getting this weird sensation today... my chest has been
really sore and I wonder if it is cramps from not eating for so long or
maybe the makings of a heart attack or something. That would really suck,
because I still haven't written my big article yet. I feel it coming on
tomorrow. I am going to a friend's house with the sole intention of
writing, and it should be profitable. My ribs feel like they're rubbing
together and that is freaking me out and it is getting tough to breathe so
I should go to sleep now. When I wake up it will be 72 hours... three days
of fasting. Three days closer to freedom. My last thought before
unconsciousness will be of someone special, and then I will pass to the world
of nightmare where I relive rejection over and over, several times in a row,
until I awaken to more pain.
Other thoughts before I sleep:
I haven't done enough with my writing yet.
--- thebmc@home.com (http://members.home.com/comintern)
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OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD! IT WAS ANOTHER FUCKING IR FILE MAN!
Copyright (c) 2001 IMPULSE REALITTY PRESS - http://ir.phonelosers.net
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