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10 miles high

by nicolas zeto, hephaestion@hotmail.com

Dear diary,

Hey this is me Baby Boy...what can I say but that I am still here unfortunately... I wonder if writing in this diary is really going to help me...i doubt it

but I suppose the doctor lady said I should do it...i don't have a choice... It's hard to suddenly have to put things down on paper. I don't want to sound stupid and have proof of it too. At least this isnt like some english class at school where my grammar and spelling matter. I can even say aint because this is my diary and no one can do shit about it. So I guess I better tell you why I have to do this.

I have this problem. I had this problem.... no I guess I still have this problem.

It happened when i woke up one day and it was like waking up in the middle of one of those eclipses...you know...where the sun is black.

well, i woke up and my life was black. I looked around and found myself surrounded by such darkness. I began to think back about the things I've been trying to forget...and the life that was slipping out of my grasp.... my past...and what little I felt was ahead of me in the future and walked into my bathroom...grabbed the razor and cut my wrists.

now diary...i was always a cutter...my arms and thighs have evidence of that shit...a feeling of such control and pleasure that only another true blue cutter can understand. i fucking hate these punk ass wanna be fuck ups that walk around pretending to be miserable fucks.

A true miserable fuck hardly talks about it...it is just something that escapes their mouths like toxic fume and people around them duck for cover. Ok so back to my story...

I cut myself that day. I remember i held my hands down and let the blood drip into my palms. Then I raised my hands and looked into the broken bathroom mirror...It was weird...i saw my image broken into pieces just like my fucked up soul...

Well... i saw my blood...and it made me hard.

here i was about to die...but i was suddenly horny

i was just turning 18, bleeding from the razor cuts on my wrists and sporting a major 4 alarm hard-on. kinda makes you realize diary what a fucked up human being i am.

i couldnt die with a hard-on of course...so i took off my jeans...and stood there in the middle of the bathroom floor.

the blood was beginning to drip onto the baby blue tile floor that matched the tile in the bathtub...

with a bloody red palm i fisted my hard-on

talk about freaky...I hadn't had blood used as lube since the day I got gang-banged at some buddy's house one Halloween night a year ago...pretty fucked up situation I got my ass in that night.... one of many reasons why I tried to finally kill myself off i suppose

shit...this diary thing is confusing...should i even tell you the story about what happened at the party...or continue with the jerk off scene? i guess i will summarize the Halloween party:

see Baby Boy drunk

see Baby Boy get lead into room by hot guy

see Baby Boy have sex with hot guy

see Baby Boy find out that hot guy has friends who want sex too

see Baby Boy get punched and held down by 4 asshole closet cases that took turns in fucking me in the ass until i passed out

then i woke up...threw up...went home...sat on the toilet and bit my hand with every painful bloody sperm loaded turd that landed in the toilet I remember having to go to school the next day...bleeding asshole and all..

I threw away more bloody underwear that week so that my mother wouldnt bitch about the stains

ok so... that is one pathetic scene out of my life...and it kinda makes sense why i was in the middle of my bathroom trying to kill myself...

well diary there i was...stroking my fucking cock with my bloody palm...i guess things were very weird

i was getting dizzy from the loss of blood but the raging hard-on wouldn't leave...suddenly i felt this hot rush through my veins...sort of like that day i tried Junk with my buddy Dee....hot molten lava rushing all through my body...

I began to feel light...as if my body was climbing up...then came the bang inside me...

my soul was finally beating against the shell that people say our bodies are...and trying to escape

it hurt but i figured it would

the separation of body and soul is like a woman when she gives birth i guess...

I remember spreading my legs wide....arching my body....

like in child birth...part of the pleasure is the actual reality of the process

i was high...i was climbing...it wasn't just jerking off...it was dying. my death. my decision.

my soul was getting higher with each stroke of my bloody palm...i looked down to see that my balls and cock were bright with my blood...

i wanted to give my soul escape i didn't want it to continue it's suffering

everyone was trying to change it... to mold it...to conquer it

they were only leaving me this battered shell of a body...

my mother in her blindness and fear of change..

my father in his jealousy....and envy...

he envied my lack of fear...I'm everything he's too cowardly to be...even after given into his lust...our lust.

Will anyone really believe me when I say this diary?

I will tell you the truth...I wanted his love...I hardly fought back the night he crawled into my little twin bed...his cock marking my life...my future...my body forever....

Don't believe the shrinks when they say...'a kid never knows...a kid is being manipulated...'

I knew I had him in the only way I could...in the only way that would have satisfied both us

He fucked me...his son...his boy...

Dear diary I wonder how I write this with such a steady hand....

fuck! why did this shrink say this will help me....? I'm doubting it again...however let me finish the crazy little story...

As i stroked my cock that day...as i jerked off and thought about how i was letting my soul loose...as i climbed higher and higher

I was escaping them...

I was so angry...so tired of everyone trying to change me. to make me their own.

and if they couldn't change me...then they didn't want me...nobody wanted me afterward...not even my dad really wanted me after he wiped his dick off in my hair...

who did i belong to ?

and if i can't belong to myself why am i not allowed to set myself free? diary that day...the rush of coming was so strong...but it was more than that...i was climbing...rising...

higher and higher i went...

suddenly there i was...10 miles high

my life flashing before my eyes...

my mother's tears...my daddy's hot kisses...the 4 cocks that raped me that night...

the blood

the cum

the tears

the hate

the anger

the fear

the pain

higher...and higher...

and now what diary?

now i look out in between the bars that cover the small window of the room i'm in...and hold this black crayon in my hand..

i'm not ready for a pencil yet...the doctor said...soon...one day... the bandages are gone...the stitches removed...the blood is off my cock... guess what they told me diary, they told me that i need to be able to get my feelings out....but once they're out...who will really listen? no one wants the truth...and now i have to search inside my head to make up good lies... lies that will get me out of here if i think it's even worth it...

i was told this is what will help me get well...that and the drugs....the needles...the endless group meetings....the endless soul searching... but why bother soul searching?

when i already released my soul one day in the middle of my bathroom floor...

Baby Boy is gone diary...

he really died that day.

this is only his shell speaking

the end


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