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This journal was uploaded anonymously to the Swagland BBS. Disturbing and compelling, this text reads like a modern "Catcher in the Rye" for the Nineties. It is not clear if the author submitted it himself, or if it was unknowingly distributed without consent. The author is still unknown. 
Life is too short. I'm in college. Its supposed to be the happiest time of my life. It's not. Every middle to old age man and woman that went to this trap called college say it was the time of their life and they would kill to have it back. I'm eighteen years old, I'm voting today, my family is twelve-thousand miles away, AIDS is kicking America's ass, Nazis are back in Germany, Wayne Gretzky is out with a herneated disk, I have a 2.0 G.P.A., I have no girlfriend, and its 72 degrees in November. Since the seventh grade I have dreamed of going to college. I thought it would be the light years of my existence. I was born in Germany in an American Military hospital, raised there. People here just don't understand me when I tell them that I grew up in Germany. The most common response I get from these people who grew up so sheltered, protected, and totally cut off from the notion that Americans may actually live in places other than the great United States is, "God, you speak English good." First of all, I speak English WELL, and I have to go into this long story about how there are American military bases overseas. My father was a teacher and is now a principal of an American school. He used to be my principal when I was in high school. Everyone thinks that it would be just great if their dad was the principal. It's not. First of all, whenever you do something that's a little out of the norm -- which I did plenty of -- every fucking teacher runs and tells him. I remember one time I said the word 'hump' on the school bus and the bus monitor told him. I heard about it at dinner. Actually, I got into quite a bit of trouble in elementary and high school. In elemtary school I was always really short, a runt. My hair was dirty and I had an overbite larger than the Grand Canyon. I hated school and made every teacher I had sick. My fifth grade teacher was sexist. Its weird, I remember now how a lot of teachers were really screwed up back then, but as a young child I guess you don't really know this stuff. Anyway, this sexist teacher hated boys, and I was doomed. One time I was at recess detention and I stuck a thumb tack in her chair and spit in her coffee. She came in after recess, sat down, jumped so high that she put a hole in the ozone layer, pulled the tack out of her old wrinkly ass, and then sat down and drank some contaminated coffee. I got suspended for that, and now that I look back, I'm really proud of what I did. When I was in high school, I triggered the fire alarm and sent the entire school out at lunch. My dad ended up giving me after-school detention. Anyway, I went to a school of about 250 and I was a stud. I wrestled, played tennis, and kissed ass like a candidate. I bull-shitted my way through math. I cannot do math one bit and now its catching up to me. I'm also Jewish and known for being a comedian. My mother is a J.A.P. (Jewish American Princess) and drives me nuts. I've gained the reputation at college for not studying much. I've gotten over it. I decided to vote democrat my first time. I dislike Bush and like Clinton. Perot should have his own late night show. Actually, I hate all politicians because they're all full of shit. How can one man change that much anyway? The fucking country is so screwed up as it is, it would take a miracle to cure the problems here. No one really cares about the welfare of the country anyway, people care only about themselves. Its human nature, we're all a bunch of heathens. Anyway, everyone here is excited about the election. I'm tired of getting flyers in my mailbox. Why do they put those damn flyers in our mailboxes anyway? I just shove them back through the mailbox now. I actually met one of the politicians who put some paper in my mailbox, he was running for some district leader position or something, one of those positions that no one really gives a shit about. Anyway, he asked me what I thought about everything and I said, "I think you should keep your paper out of my mailbox." He couldn't believe that I had said that to him. Please, the man is on a college campus with a bunch of kids who think they are the most special things on Earth. Of course we're going to be smart-asses. Change is the best way to describe what I've gone through in college. I've totally changed the way I dress and my taste in music. This can be blamed solely on my roommate, Ben. Ben is 21 and a junior. He transferred out of a community school and got stuck with me. Let me tell you, community colege is one of the best inventions ever. First of all, you take the same damn classes and its about eight-thousand dollars cheaper. They fuck you over at a big university. I get fucked over every day, but I'm used to it now. It's a great system, I pay the college to fuck me every day. Anyway, Ben loves me and I love him. He's one of the best friends I've ever had. His purpose around here for the rest of our dormmates is to give them rides and get beer for the young animals. To me though, he's another family. He's taken me home a lot and I've gotten to know his world and his family fairly well and I love them. Ben studies hard and gets the same grades I do, and I help him with English, my best subject. He's also Jewish which is good. In Germany I was the only Jew and sometimes it got hard, but that's okay. The world isn't perfect. This I realize more and more everyday. Its such a roller coaster here. Last semester I had four classes. I hated chemistry, loved music study, hated Sociology (the teacher's a fruit), loved history. I'm still kissing ass and its working. In my opinion, kissing ass is okay. I look at it as a talent, a skill. It makes me feel like I am smarter and faster than everyone else. Nobody has ever seen through me. I used to work at a five-star hotel in the heart of Germany as a bell hop. I kissed so much ass there. Here's an example... This man comes in with one bag, I ask him while taking his bag, "Sir, may I take your bag?" Of course he'll say yes because it's already in my goddamn hand and I look like I'm fifteen years old. On the way upstairs he asks me, "How come you speak English so good?" I want to correct his grammar and say, "speak English well," but that's rude so I say, "I'm American." Now, if this man was French, I wouldn't say that I was American because the French hate us. Did you know that France didn't let us fly into their airspace during the Gulf War? If not for us, it wouldn't be French airspace. Screw the French. Anyway, lets assume that this guy's German. He'll ask me how long I've lived here. This is the most fruitful question a customer could ask, because the obvious answer is, "Eighteen years today." He then asks, "What do you mean, today?" and I gently state, "It's my birthday today." That one is worth about twenty dollars and the people at the front desk know that it is my birthday every day if you know what I mean. My other favorite is when they ask why an American boy is working at a German hotel. I tell them that I'm working to pay for medical school. This can bring up to thirty dollars. I adjust my bull-shitting to the way I read the customer. Of course the job did get depressing, like when the Arabs came with limos full of luggage and I lost ten pounds carrying all of it and got a handful of bubble gum money. Bastards. Well, in all my unhappiness, at least I'm eighteen. But really, what is eighteen anyway? It means I can fight in a war, pay the government taxes, but I can't gamble or drink. Actually, drinking isn't something you have to worry about here. Everyone drinks and smokes pot. The sad thing is that its not a big deal. Sure your parents make a big deal out of it, but they did the same thing. Drinking is made out to be more than it really is. Drinking is thought to be the 'other thing' to do, but in reality it's the most conformist thing to do. I've been loaded plenty of times. I don't drink beer much. Four shots of anything and I'm flying. I haven't had an ounce of alcohol for so long, except when finals were over. See, I can't drink because I have a fucking ulcer. I have a hole in my stomach about three-fourths of an inch in diameter. I take sixteen-hundred milligrams of medication a day. I live off of Maalox and Tums. I think to myself, why me? Why can't I just be happy? I shouldn't complain about my life because it could be so much worse. I realize how lucky I am to have grown up in a protected environment. I see so many people that are less fortunate than I am. There's probably a guy laying on his back in a cardboard box who is happier than me right now because this box doesn't have any holes in it. Its almost hard to believe that we all live together on the same planet, the same city, and we see the less fortunate and we accept it. I'm as much to blame as anyone. I bitch about how overly involved my mother is in my life and yet I realize that some people don't even have mothers. Its an insane world. Humans have such big heads thinking that what we do will matter at all. I just saw a movie called 'Grand Canyon' and Simon, played by Danny Glover, was talking about how little humans are. "The Grand Canyon laughed at me," he said. It's so true, too. The world keeps spinning itself to death and we all just keep going without stopping to think about what we're really doing. I mean just think about life for a moment. I've come to the conclusion that humans all have one thing in common, the pursuit of happiness, and if you think for just ten minutes about what truthfully will make you happy, you'll find that you're not doing it, and what's worse is that you still won't do anything about it. Every day that I'm here I think more and more about how short a life is and that we waste so much time. Sometimes you have to just do it. Anyway, Clinton won. So now I'm 1-0 in voting. The election's over and everyone is calming down. I still feel like shit, the weather is still perfect, and I still have a 2.0 G.P.A. Beverly Hills 90210 is on tonight and everyone is excited. I watch it because there are about sixty girls there watching also. We're illusioned in that we think we have a chance of meeting someone. Let me tell you something right now. A guy never meets someone when he is looking. Every female I have been with I met by accident when I least expected it. It's an unfair stituation. See, it's easier for a girl because guys will almost always say yes, as long as the girl doesn't make him vomit. Its a ridiculous world. I don't have my driver's license yet and I really don't give a shit. Lately, I've realized something very important. Friends. I made a lot of friends here. Some are better than others. Some aren't really friends and I just use them for things they own or do. That is a pretty shitty thing to say, but come on, who the hell are we kidding? My best friend up here is Ben, my roomate. He takes care of me. He knows my schedule and everything. He also supplied the room with a nice big stereo, fridge, speakers. He also has an awesome car. The only thing that I contributed to the suite was one of those air fresheners that you stick on the wall. The funny thing about that is that we didn't even turn it when we hung it, so it was up there for nine weeks without releasing odor. You would think I use him, and maybe I do, but the truth is I love him. I feel like I can tell him everything. I feel comfortable with him. He's a health nut though, lifting weights, eating right. I have a decent body. I'm about 5'5, 130 pounds and I've got a nice chest and arms. I also have a little bit of a gut. The worst thing though is my skin. I'm so white its scientific. My ass is used to bring boats in during fog. There are a couple of other friends whose lives could be in movies. I've sort of lost track of my high school friends, it's sad. Anyway, I have another friend up here, he lives across the hall us, his name is Max. Max has problems like all of us, but they're more apparent than ours. He doesn't hide them as much. Actually, he's a total dweeb, but he's mature for his age. He's stubborn and very annoying at times, but I get along with him great. He's never had a girlfriend and he's never kissed a girl. He always screws up by saying stupid stuff. He has vicious family problems, he's never held a girl's hand, but he's kind of a stud. We call him 'Box Boy' but never to his face because he's so sensitive. He thinks a lot like I do, except his self-esteem his really low and we watch over him carefully. Most of all, he's sexually frustrated. He drops sperm every day and cries when girls walk all over him. However, he is fun to be with and would do anything for me. I would always back him up. He's also Jewish. Our hall seems to be predominately Jewish and it's kind of cool for me since I was always in a class by myself in high school. There are other guys that are my friends, but none who'll be around when I'm thirty. There's Mitch, the gymnast and his roomate Paul, the socially incorrect but smart. There's Vince, the Jew from New York, he's like Andrew Dice Clay in college; then there's his roomate Lawrence, the horniest fucker ever. He's really nice, but he's the kind of guy who won't care very much if you die or not. Next door to us lives The Frat Guy, he grew up in a mall. One word somes him up: twit. Those are the backdrops of college. The guys who you may or may not hear from later on and you don't care if you do or not. Just a bunch of bullshit. Now, women... There are plenty of women in our dorm. Its a fuck-fest here, except that none of us are fucking anything except our hands. I have two special women friends. I know what you're thinking, that men and women can't be friends, unless they are. First, I'd like to discuss Hillary. Hillary is a rich, spoiled, brilliant, talkative, complainer. She reminds me a lot of my mother. She isn't so great looking and she can get damn annoying. She's on the verge of suicide too. She writes poetry and she would die for me. I can't say I'd die for her. I would definitely take a bullet or two for her, maybe not in the neck or chest, but in the toe or arm. We've gotten really close. The thing is that nobody really likes her and the guys always make total fun of her and then I find myself making fun of her even worse. I do feel guilty about that. I'm such a bastard. Anyway, she also hangs around Ben and me at the wrong times, like when we're talking to other girls. She scares them away. She also eats all of our food. She comes into our room and runs for the nearest cookie or candy bar and just eats it without asking. I have a feeling that this friendship will explode soon. I hope she doesn't kill herself. I do love her though. When you come to college you always meet someone that you never imagined existed, someone so messed up, so crazy, so unpredictable, so different. Samantha came from Hemet, California, where they drink, consume drugs and fuck. Samantha is beautiful. She has a tight body and a loose way about her. She's smart in a lot of ways and even though she seems like she's a slut or a flake, she could make a great wife. She goes through guys like I go through oxygen. She has this long flaming red hair. She sticks out, if you know what I mean. Besides Ben, she's my closest friend. We take care of each other. One time we all went to the beach at about one in the morning and took off all of our clothes and ran around naked. When we went back to the stairs that lead up the cliff, the only way up to the dorm, there was a skunk waiting for us right by the stairs. The damn thing stayed there for three fucking hours. Finally, we just went kamikaze and chased it. It sprayed its smell, but we didn't get it. That was when we were all happy because we were free from our parents and our old lives. It was the beginning of our mature life. Too bad things always change. Finals are the most stressful form of shit in the entire world. I would rather give up vital parts of my anatomy than take some of the finals that I have to take. First of all, it's mostly my fault because I hardly ever study, and for some of my subjects it's the first time I ever looked at the fucking book. So I realize that I have to cram and I do. By saying 'cram' I mean trying to get a whole quarter's lessons into one evening. It actually works sometimes, too. It was almost Christmas time and I was going home to Germany for three weeks. I was kind of excited and I sort of wanted to see my parents. I really don't care about seeing any of my friends. They were never really my friends anyway. It's weird, you think that when you leave high school that you'll keep in touch with your friends and that they'll always be your friends. The truth is that most of the time you just forget about them and they forget about you. Sure, you'll write a few letters, but then later on after you meet some more friends in college that are more fun and exciting, you just don't care anymore. The only time you'll keep a friend from high school is when you've known that person for so long and you really love them, but even then, you'll drift. It's cruel and discouraging, but that's the way it is. So before I left I decided to call Marissa. Marissa was my best friend in high school. I met her on the first day of my senior year in gym class. I thought she was cute. She ended up being in three of my classes and I talked to her a lot. It also turned out that her mother worked for my father and that our parents knew each other and hung around each other. I decided that I would ask her out to a movie or something. She was kind of a shy girl and she always had this look on her face as if she was always concentrating and she looked a little intimidating. She was the kind of girl that you like, but you won't tell anybody because they would think you were crazy and not because she's the most popular girl in school either. I called her after getting her number in history class and asked her to the movies. She said, "I can't, I have a boyfriend." That's the worst thing any girl can say to an seventeen-year-old guy. It pisses us off so much, because we feel stupid and insignifigant. Usually when a girl says that to me, I totally give up and never really talk to the girl again, but Marissa was different. We actually ended up being very close friends. She used to come over all of the time and we would do simple things together like play board games and computer games. Sometimes stuff like that can end up being very meaningful to people. I remember Marissa telling me how it meant a lot to her because she really didn't have any friends. I was glad she said that, but it's her fault she doesn't have any friends. She doesn't go up to people and talk. I shouldn't be an asshole about it because I can't stand those phony girls who talk to everybody, if you know what I mean. They walk around acting like they're just so incredible. The worst quality a girl could ever have, and I mean this is the aboslute most horrible thing ever, is when they say the word 'like' between every phrase that comes out of their mouth. "Like, I need to brush my hair." "I was so, like, totally serious." It makes me want to vomit. Every weekend Marissa and I were going somewhere... Frankfurt, the zoo, wherever. We knew each other so well. Her boyfriend, Kenneth, was a dweeb. I hated him because he was always jealous of Marissa and me, and had no right to be because he never spent time with her on the weekends, and he didn't know her like I did. She would even complain about him all of the time, but she never thought of breaking up with him. But somewhere in the middle of our friendship I fell in love with her. I didn't even know why. She wasn't the most entertaining person on earth. She was cute, but not a goddess. Actually, I thought she was quite beautiful. Sometimes, you get into someone for a long time and you really start to see beauty, and I mean real beauty. To me, Marissa is the most beautiful girl in the whole world. She's Mexican, kinda short and she smells so good. She has a certain smell that's just her. It would still be on my clothes at the end of an evening and it drove me nuts. I never told her how I really felt because I didn't think she felt the same way and I knew how important our friendship was to her. She cherished it so much because she never really had a friend like me, someone who made her laugh, made her happy. But, after a while, I couldn't take it anymore so I called her. My heart was racing so fast. "Marissa," I said, "I have something I have to tell you." She goes, "What?" "I think I've fallen for you, real hard." I felt better now. And then she said, "Oh boy." And she sounded like she felt sorry for me. But then she surprised me and said, "I feel the same way." I was getting very happy, and then she said, "but, I can't." You know how sometimes in the back of your mind you hear an explosion when you get bad news or something? Well, I saw an explosion that could take out the Terminator. Like an idiot I asked her, "Why?" "Because, it goes against everything." I was about to cry. She tried to comfort me by saying that she'll always have these feelings for me anyway and I agreed and told her that I understand. Then I did something crazy. "I love you," I so solemly stated. A few seconds later, I hear: "I love you too." Then she hung up and went into my room. That whole night, I didn't know whether to be happy or sad. The next day when I saw Kenneth kissing her, I knew. I was sad. I could't take it anymore, so I just stopped talking to her. I used to watch her and Ken and I hated her for it, but deep down at the same time I loved her. The relationship got worse and worse until one day it just exploded. I was playing football in the gym and she was playing soccer and I threw the football. As I watched the ball fly threw the air toward her, I felt a shock of adrenaline through my body and for an instant I was glad that it was going to hit her. But when it did, I felt like shit. It hit her right in the tits and then the worst happened. She turned around and glared right into my eyes like she was wishing lightning would strike me or something. Then she held up that middle finger of hers and said really loudly, "Fuck you!" It hurt like a knife. I loved her so much at that moment and I knew that she hated me. The whole class got quiet and I could only do one thing. I said, "No, fuck you!" She turned away and kept playing and I went to the restroom and held my head and tried to keep from crying. I couldn't. Anyway, we made up during the summer and when school started here, I called her and we talked about everything except how I felt about her. I had gotten over her by then anyway. I talked to her a few times, no big whoop. Well, like I said before, I called her before I left for Germany and she told me something interesting. I guess my mother had arranged with her mother to have her sent back to Germany three days early so she could see me for New Year's. She was supposed to stay at the house for three days. Of course I got ideas in my head. Come on, who the hell am I kidding? Anyway, I started making sexual inuendos on the phone and she answered with, "You are so dissilusioned." Now, how am I supposed to interpret that? I'm thinking it means that she still just wants me as a friend, so I say goodbye and start studying. I knew it was impossible to ever have her. I just had to face it, she doesn't want me. Finals were a mess. I took them and I had no clue how I did. I think school, finals, and all of that other shit is communist. I mean that I feel like a prisoner of society. Why do we have to go through this bullshit? They make it seem like if we don't do it, we'll end up on welfare or something. The sad fact is that it's true. Anyway, you just do it and shut up. I learned that policy in first grade when my teacher beat my hand with a ruler because I was picking my nose. Bitch. I ended my last two finals one after the other and I did alright except I ended up with a G.P.A. lower than 2.0 and I wasn't surprised. It's ridiculous, I'm sitting in the final, its the only day when everyone comes to class, and on top of it all I'm sitting in the front. I looked up and around I saw an ocean of students all taking the exact same test, a test that for three hours of their lives becomes the only thing they know at that point in time. All of these poor schmucks stayed up and studied for so many hours torturing themselves and for what? So they can get answers right that they won't even remember unless they're watching Jeopardy with their grandparents. It's just a huge trap. The day an employer asks me what the Hedonic Calculus method is, that's the day I put school on my love list. Until then, I put school on my shit list. I think the most effective way of learning is through actual experience. Anyway, I didn't find out my grades until I got back, but I didn't worry about it. I'll never understand why people worry about shit like that when they have almost no control over what's going to happen. It's wasted calories to me. My mother does that and I can't stand it. "Oh boy," I thought, "I sure hope I don't get too tired of her this Christmas." It was Friday and Ben already left to go home. I missed him already, I didn't realize how used to him I was. I felt so alone. Samantha and Hillary had left, too. I didn't even say goodbye to them. There's a good reason for that. I finally blew up and stopped talking to Hillary. She just got on my nerves so much that I couldn't take it anymore. Samantha's just drunk all of the time. She fucked two other guys since Paul. Chuck and Tom have good whacking material now. I was sitting there moping, I was supposed to get a cab in about ten minutes. I hate taking cabs. I mean, you know they're trying to fuck you, and you know when they are fucking you, and you find that you can't say anything to prevent it. I was hoping I wouldn't get one of those refugee cab drivers who doesn't even know his way around or at least acts likes he doesn't. I also hate it when they can't speak English. The airport was about five minutes away so I hoped it wasn't going to cost too much. I decided to take my hockey equipment back so could show off in front of the house. The cab pulled up. It was orange and big. The driver stepped out, big guy. He was about fifty years old, he had a grey beard and was wearing a Chicago Bears hat. He reminded me of one of those guys on Saturday Night Live who like Mike Ditka so much. Saturday Night Live is my favorite show and I can act out almost every one of the characters. I did it in front of an audience once and I got a standing ovation. Anyway, the guy was pretty nice. He took all of my stuff and put it in the back. I couldn't sit in the front seat because there was so much shit on it. In the cab, the driver started talking to me about hockey. He started telling me this bullshit about how where he lived in Illinois, they didn't have hockey sticks or skates and they had to carve them out of trees and use a tin can for a puck and the pond as the rink. I thought he was funny. I like meeting characters like that, it helps you evaluate yourself better. The best thing about him was that he didn't fuck me over. He only charged me seven bucks and wished me luck. I had told him that I was on my way to play for the German Olympic Team and he believed me. Sometimes I get a kick out of shit like that, I'm practicing my bullshitting again, that's all. I know, I'm a bastard. Anyway, the airport looked like a bus station. I had to take one of those little wind-up toys to L.A. and then take a big jet all the way to Germany. It was supposed to be about a twenty hour trip. I hate flying. I'm so scared of crashing and I get congested. I hate everything about it. I have recently acquired a new skill, though. I can sleep on the plane now, and that helps. The little plane wasn't so bad. The pilot was about three years older than I am and I wasn't nervous at all. The worst thing you can hear a pilot say is, "We may experience some turbulence on the way up," because when they say that it means we'll probably be shaken out of the sky. Well, I suppose maybe that's the second worse thing they can say, the first being "We're all going to die!!" Anyway, we took off and sure enough, the plane shook like Katherine Hepburn's head. I had my music turned up really loud and my eyes were closed. We landed in L.A. with no more problems. We had to walk across the airfield to go to the terminal. That's fun, I love crossing in back of roaring engines that could fry me like chicken, but that's okay. LAX airport is a fun place to be. I was hit up as soon as I breathed the air inside. This guy comes over to me, shakes my hand and says to me that he played hockey and then he asks me where I'm from and guess what? It just so happens that he's from Germany also, right. He then puts this huge book in my hand and says its free and then asks for a donation to his cause. All I have are twenties and so I ask him if he has change and he has the nerve to ask me for twenty. I tell him that he's mental and that if he wants anything he had better give me change. He then asks me for five and I told him to take one and shut up about it already. He does and then says to me, "do you mind if I give you a smaller book," and I say, "fine." He pulls out a piece of paper and gives it to me and leaves. What an asshole. I should have slap-shot his ass. I had to wait at the airport for two hours so I went to the phone and called Ben. I talked to him a while and said goodbye and sat down and listened to music for an hour. Finally, the damn boarding call was made. I had tried to get an upgrade using my frequent flyer card, but the guy at the front was a schmuck. He looked like Mario from that stupid Super Mario game. I had politely asked him if there was any chance for an upgrade today, and he gave me a dirty look and muttered, "What do mean, an upgrade?" I showed him my card and he snickered. What an asshole. Then I got rude, and I say, "Listen Mario," I said, "you don't need to be rude. All I did was ask you a question." I stormed away pissed off. I even wore a tie, and he talked to me like that anyway. Airlines are such assholes. First they board the first and business classes, then board the kids and handicapped or whatever. I love how you get on the plane and walk down the aisle and the first thing you see is how beautiful first class is. You then keep going and see business class, not too bad either. Then you hit coach and it looks just a little different. There's always some putz who stands in the middle of the aisle, which isn't big enough to fit your carry-on through so you run into everybody on the way to your seat, which also seems very far away, and so this putz is standing there fiddling with the stupid overhead compartment because he brought so much on the fucking plane. Finally, he sits down and you move on and this is the worst part because you're trying to anticipate who the hell you're going to sit next to. You hope to God it isn't a fat person, a kid, or an older person. Just my luck, I sat down next to some old lady from Romania. My seat was already consumed with shit that she bought while she was in the land of plenty. The thing that kicked my ass was that she got an attitude about moving it. I just shook my head and sat down. I was in the middle by the aisle. I was kind of happy because I was pretty close to the movie screen. The first thing I always look at are the stewardesses. I would never let any of them hear me say that because the word 'stewardess' offends them. They prefer 'flight attendant'. I know this because my cousin Rachel is one and she almost killed me at dinner once, obviously on my mom's side. None of the 'flight attendants' on the plane got me excited really. Two of them were guys. How come all male flight attendants act like female flight attendants? It's bizarre. It never fails, they sound like they were kicked in the balls or something. Anyway, if you're lucky one of them will ask you if they can get you anything. It's amazing, one of them actually came through the cabin and asked people. I just happened to be in a sarcastic mood if you can imagine that, so when she came to me and asked me, "Hello, can I get you anything?" I said, "Sure, it'd be nice to have a bean bag chair right about now." She laughed a little and left. I laughed and shook my head. Flight attendants are the glorified waitresses of the air. The flight was surprisingly painless. It took about twelve hours and I slept a lot. I missed both movies. The food was shit, and I didn't eat very much. I had my Walkman on practically the whole time and I think my hearing was gone. I could see out of the window across from me and Germany was all fog. It was good to be home. After getting off of the plane, I said goodbye to my freedom and stepped into the waiting area. I heard a shriek from the crowd and there she was, all decked out in her nice sweater and jewelry that matched it perfectly. I didn't even see my dad. Mom hugged me real hard and started crying. I was still looking for my dad. He was behind me and I hugged him. In the car on the way home I answered all of their questions to the best of my ability. They were bitching about my grades and my money, and I was all ready to go back. I ended up sleeping for about twenty hours the next day. The whole two weeks before Marissa came I was feeling nervous and I could feel my ulcer acting up. I didn't want to tell my mother because she would call the paramedics or something. I saw my old high school for about ten minutes and that was all I could handle. I got so sick of every damn person coming up to me asking how I like college life and having my parents glow after I tell them how fucking wonderful it is. They all give you this look like they're really proud of you and it makes you want to throw up on them. I slept a lot because I was really getting tired of my mom. She wouldn't leave me alone. I just kept thinking of Marissa and how I would deal with her. I knew that if I saw her again and smelled her again that I would go back to wanting her and I didn't want to have to deal with that. Well, the day finally came. My mom and I went to the airport and waited for her. I was going to buy her a rose, but I didn't have enough guts. My mother kept asking me questions about Marissa and how I felt about her. She always butted her nose into my personal business. I just ignored her and waited by the gate. When Marissa came through the gate, my heart melted. She looked so beautiful, tired. I wanted to run to her, but refrained. I just watched her walk for a while and then finally stepped in front of her. She looked up at me and said hi and hugged me real tight for about twenty seconds. I took her bag and we left for the house. Of course, my mother wouldn't shut the hell up and kept talking to her and I just sat there listening and thinking, remembering. All of the anxiety was coming back. I hated it so much. I made Marissa dinner that evening. She was tired, but she wanted to stay up and spend time with me. We talked, but I never mentioned our relationship or what I kept thinking about. The next day was New Year's Eve and we decided to go to the movies and then meet my parents at this small party in the city. That night, I fixed Marissa's futon, which was in the living room and tried to kiss her on the cheek. She pulled away. I felt like total shit. I decided right there that I would never try, say, or do anything ever again about the way I felt about her. That was the end. We went downtown the next morning and walked around. My ulcer was on fire and I ate some bread to make it feel better, but it didn't help. I hate this fucking thing. It feels like there's a needle in my stomach and its just pressing on it without completely going through. Its the worst fucking feeling ever. We talked about so much and I kept feeling like shit. By the time I got home I was almost crying. I still didn't let my mother see this. I then sucked down some Maalox and I was okay for a while. Then I got ready to go out with Marissa. I dressed nicely and we went to the movie theater. The movie we saw was one that I had seen twice already. I loved it. 'Singles' has to be one of the best movies of all time. Marissa and I were practically the only ones there. Then Lester came in with some chick. Lester was the senior idiot. He didn't change. He started asking Marissa about Kenneth knowing that it was pissing me off. We sat pretty far away from them. I wanted to hold her hand the whole time, but of course, I thought she found me repulsive. In the whole year and a half that I knew her I had never once held her hand. I can't count the number of times that I dreamed of just holding her hand. Anyway, the movie was great, and we started walking downtown to the party. I had taken some Tums, but they weren't helping much. It was so cold outside. I told Marissa that I wanted to go eat, but she didn't want to. She said that we could eat at the party so I agreed with her and we kept walking. We had never been there before and my Mom had given us instructions. We got lost, we started fighting, and ended up not speaking to each other. Finally, we found the place and when we went inside, none of the adults were there. There were four kids. Two were in high school and two were in middle school. They told us that the parents went out and would be home soon. We ended up just sitting around talking and answering questions about school. Then the youngest daughter started playing the piano and, God, could she play. Marissa kept looking at me and smiling trying to make up, but I wasn't amused because I was constipated and I had an ulcer at the same time. One thing that was keeping my attention was the older daughter. She was gorgeous and she was so nice. I think she was in tenth grade. I would marry a girl that looked like her. Finally the elders came home and as soon as they got in the door, my mother started putzing over me. God, I couldn't take it any more. I had taken a codine so my ulcer was feeling a lot better. I was still constipated and I kept trying to hold my farts. When I came out of the bathroom, I saw Marissa talking to some people and I couldn't help staring at her. I loved her so much. I wanted to just tell her too, I was going to also, but I was to scared she'd reject me, besides I had vowed to stop this charade. But, she was so beautiful, and I loved her so damn much. When twelve o'clock came around and everyone was kissing everyone, I wanted to kiss her so badly. Instead, I had to settle for my mother. We went to the roof and watched the fireworks. Marissa came up from behind me and said, "Happy New Year," and I said,"Yeah, you too," and she hugged me. On the way home we decided that we would stay up the whole night and talk. We watched T.V. until about two in the morning and then I had to go to bed so we said goodnight and went to bed. This is when my whole life changed. I decided to sneak into her room and scare the shit out of her. Now, I've been sneaking around this house forever so I knew exactly where I was going. I went quietly into the room and went right up to the edge of the futon and just grabbed her. She freaked out and hit me, but then she laughed and I sat down with her in the dark and we talked. I went to bed an hour later and then did it again. This time, I kicked her suitcase so she would freak out. She did and she started grabbing for me, but she didn't even come close. Then she got out of bed and I got into her bed. She turned on the light and saw me. I started getting out of her bed because I knew she didn't want me in there, but then she shut the light out climbed in with me. I was laying right up against her body. I was in heaven. She smelled so good. She was wearing a night shirt and underpants. I stayed for about ten minutes and then told her I have to go. "Why?" she asked me. "Come on," I said, "you know how much I like you. This is killing me." I was glad I said that. Then she said something that made my life. "Well, its hard for me too." I'm freaking now and I say, "What do you mean?" "Well, I've liked you for so long too. I want you so much right now, but I'm scared that you'll leave me like all of the others. You're the best friend I ever had. You've always been there for me and if we get together, you'll just go away." I put my hand on her shoulder and went down to her thigh. They felt so nice. Then she did the most incredible thing, she said,"Just be with me, okay?" "Okay," I said, and she held my hand. Just that simple gesture made me love her even more and I was almost in tears. I put my other hand on her leg and started moving up to her thigh and then I got greedy and went to her stomach and then finally to her breasts. They felt better than I ever dreamed. I thought I was dreaming, I was holding Marissa and it was incredible. I had dreamed about this moment so much that it seemed like it would never come. Then I kissed the back of her neck and that sealed it up. She turned over toward me started kissing me all over like crazy. It was so passionate. All of the sudden, my life had meaning again. Marissa loved me and everything would be different now. She pulled off my shorts and I took off hers and she grabbed me and pulled me into her. I knew that I wasn't wearing protection, but I didn't seem to care. I pushed into her. It was so warm and it felt so right, but then I realized what it was I was really doing and I pulled out. We stopped for a while and talked about it. We were both real confused, but one thing was for sure, we didn't regret it. Two hours later we did it again. She scratched my back and left marks. She was so perfect, more perfect than I had ever dreamed. I stayed with her all night, but got up before my parents woke because my mother would die if she caught us. You see, my mother thinks that I'm to good for Marissa so she wouldn't think highly of it. She also thinks I'm still a virgin. That whole day, I was mostly tired, but also happy. We were quiet and we were trying not to be obvious. We both had to pack because I had to go back to school and she was going back to her place. Marissa was sitting on my bed in my room while I was packing and I saw her shaking her head. I asked her, "Are you going to pretend that this didn't happen?" She nodded her head yes, and I yelled, "Get the FUCK out of my room, now!" I was so mad because I didn't want this to end. We had gone so far. It turns out she nodded yes because she thought I was talking about how to act around my parents. I felt so stupid. Anyway, she came back in and asked me to sleep with her again that night, our last night together. I said yes and that night we made love and it was perfect. That next day, we took her back to her apartment and my dad let me take her up by myself, thank God. I told her that I would miss her and that I would call her when she got back in a week. I hugged her tight like I would never see her again and then I kissed her passionately. Then without saying another word, I left. I called her from the airport and right when I was going to tell her that I loved her, the money ran out in the phone. Figures. "Fifty-one, fifty-two, fifty-three..." I was laying on my floor counting fucking ceiling tiles. Everything was so wrong, so bad. This wasn't the way things were supposed to be. "What do you mean you haven't had your period yet?" I said. "I'm just a little concerned," she tells me. After I came back from Germany, things didn't start out right. My ulcer was acting up. I took Codine on the plane and, man, I was as high as a kite. I practically slept the whole way. I had to stay in a motel because I got back to school too early and the dorms were locked. I was using a cab. I hate cabs. I got one of those refugee cab drivers who don't know their ass from a hole in the ground. He fucked me over and drove me to a motel that was about twenty miles from school. The cab fare was thirty-five schmucks. Bastard. I let him carry all of my luggage in by himself and I didn't say thank you or give him at tip. The motel was okay, except that my ulcer was really in pain. I don't really like motels very much. In fact, I hate them with a passion. This one was riduculous; first of all, it had a stupid name. It was called the Polynesian. What a stupid name, it sounds like a breed of dog or something. Anyway, the rooms were largely overpriced, of course, and the people who ran it were wierd. I talked to the desk clerk for a little bit while my wonderful cab driver was dragging my luggage in, the idiot. His wife, I guessed, was talking on the phone or something and I heard her say something about her husband. They were both pretty young so I asked him, "So, you're married?" He answered, "Sort of. Actually its a pagan kind of thing." "Whatever," I thought. Jesus Christ, what kind of maniacs are these people? People like that who are so brainwashed, they should be shot or something. Anyway, I missed Marissa and I was pissed off at the world. The next day I went home. Ben picked me up so I didn't have to deal with any more fucking cab drivers. My ulcer was killing me, but I had bread and it was helping a little. I sucked down Maalox and Tums and later got my prescription filled for the ulcer medication. Now I have to go to the doctor again. I hate going to the doctor. Last time he gave me a rectal exam. I never in my life wanted to kill a doctor more than I did that day. I had never had a rectal exam before and when he said, "I have to give you a rectal exam now," I really didn't comprehend the word 'rectal' and I turned the wrong way. Then he says to me, "No, the other way," and then I realized what he was going to do and I almost shit my pants. I should have shit my pants, that would serve him right to have to deal with that. Before I could even really think about it, his finger was already up my ass. I felt so violated, I cried. Anyway, school started up again and it was the same bullshit, the same roller coaster as always. I hadn't heard from Marissa, but that was because she was still in Germany. The next weekend, she called and we ended up starting a relationship. I had written her a letter telling her how I felt about her and it was beautiful. It was the best letter I have ever written. It made her very happy. Anyway, it was out of control now. I was going to see her up in Arizona soon and I bought her a diamond ring. I was out of control. I really love her though and I wanted to marry her. I know, I'm eighteen and stupid, but who's to tell me that I'm too impetuous? Fuck everyone. That's my new motto by the way. "F.E.," baby. "Fuck everybody." It's a good one. When you totally feel like shit and everyone is on your ass just say, "Fuck everybody." So, I talked to her about twice a day on the phone and my bill was higher than Roseanne Barr's blood pressure. I did, however have some extra money that I won in Vegas. I went to Vegas with Ben the previous week. We took his brother, some girl who was religious, and one of our hallmates, who was a doorknob. Anyway, we had fun. The girl was driving us nuts. She was a born again Christian. Jesus Christ, what an idiot. She was preaching to me, a Jew, about how Jesus will come one day. I really pissed her off and told her that Moses hit eight home runs off of Jesus because he has a shitty slider. The sad thing was that she was cute. Max says, "What a waste of pussy." The hallmate was a corpse. He never spoke, and when he did it was annoying. He's a chemistry major, so that explains it all. We all live in fear of this idiot, because we never want him to hang out with us, but he tries to follow us anyway. We have little plans now on how to sneak out of the dorm with out him noticing us. It's kind of pointless because he ends up hunting us down anyway. One time we all wanted to go swimming, but not with him. He found out we were going and went to get into his bathing suit. While he was in his room, we all ran out of the dorm to the pool. We all felt pretty bad. Anyway, he ended up going anyway and he actually got there before we did. He's a curse from Satan, I tell you. The crazy thing is that he didn't even say anything about it. It was like he denied that we did it in his mind. What a psycho. The point of the Vegas trip is that I won ninety dollars. The hallmate was playing some poker machine, illegally, and I got bored so I turned around and there it was, the Machine of Love. I looked around to make sure there were no cops or schmucks around, and I put three quarters in the machine. I pushed the button and the thing spun around and stopped. I saw three things: joker, joker, and bar. The machine made a little noise and pooped out about eight quarters. I thought that was cool, and then it happened. The machine went crazy and spit out quarters like Samantha spits out condoms. I got scared and told the hallmate to collect it all. He used a camera bag and got it all. He took some of it too, the bastard. Everyone's your friend when you win money. We ran down stairs and played a couple video games to calm down. Anyway, I used this money for the phone bill. Fun trip. So then a huge problem developed. Marissa called and told me that she was twelve days late and that she was concerned. I was thinking "My God, this can't happen to me, this is the kind of thing that happens to poor scwartzies." I didn't think I came in her enough. I know, I know, there's always pre-cum. Shit. I was really worried about her though. I told her to call me as soon as anything happened. She said she would wait a week before she took the test. I was so scared. I'm such a schmuck. I did a really good thing, though. I told Marissa that I would always be with her no matter what and that I would stand by her without conditions. I felt good about myself for that. Yeah, I'm a real fucking saint. Of course, I was freaking out, but what's new? That whole evening I was feeling horrible. I played hockey and scored seven goals. I guess I perform better when I know I'm fucked. The strangest thing though was that deep down inside, I was kind of happy about it. I don't know, maybe it was because this would ensure that I would be with Marissa forever. It just didn't seem that bad you know. I do know that it wouldn't be right. I was just praying that she wasn't pregnant. Wow, that would be so wild, I thought. Damn. It was a pleasant night. I slept like a baby and its weird how the crisis was there and I knew it, but I wasn't that worried. Maybe I knew somehow that it wouldn't happen. Maybe I was going through that mood like I didn't give a fuck what happened anymore. I had a lot of trouble admitting to myself that I was kind of anxious to hear her so that it came up blue. I waited for the call all day, and even though I pretended to be scared, I wasn't. I actually would be dissapointed if she told me that she wasn't pregnant. I wanted to kill myself for thinking this way and when I told Samantha how I felt about this she thought I was nuts, but at the same time understood me. Anyway, at about two o'clock she called. I picked up the phone and waited for the word. She said, "Do you remember how we were worried? Well, you don't have to be worried anymore. Guess what I just started?" Out loud I said, "Thank God," but inside my messed up brain, I was so dissapointed. The crisis was over and I decided to just go back to my original routine of life. This crisis did bring us closer together and I was grateful for that. Damn. If my mother knew she would have died of a heart attack probably and disowned me. Bitch. It really pisses me off. This world pisses the hell out of me. How come America has so many God damn rules and regulations? Sometimes I feel like I'm trapped in a society called prison. No one cares about anyone. Everyone is out to fuck over everybody. In Germany, everyone lives peacefully. There is no curfew, the drinking age is four, no speed limit, and other non-constrictions that nobody would believe. Everyone is given the same chance at education and if they fuck it up the worst they can do is street cleaning. It's the safest place to walk at night and you never have to worry about someone ripping off your car or bike. So the next day I went to change a class, which would probably just take some button-pushing and just a little number-changing and the job would be done. But of course, the fucking registrar's office makes me fill out three-thousand forms and getting a million signatures of people that don't even exist. On top of that, they're going to charge me a fee. Why? I'm doing all of the work. As if we don't pay enough for shitting out loud. Assholes. It feels like this damn school is just taking more and more from me every day. They're building a new University Center here and, as a result, are hiking up our tuition. The shitty thing is is that I'll have graduated by the time the damn thing is built. Anyway, they're trying to screw me over on this class change thing. They figure since I have to do all of that work that I'll just give up, but they don't know me. Besides, Jews never give up. That's a bad thing to say, but really they don't. I mean, have you ever seen a Jew get cheated? They get so pissed. My mother is the worst. If the check out clerk at McDonald's or something accidentally makes a mistake, my mother fights to the death for as little as a quarter. It's ridiculous. Another thing that drives me nuts that is characterized of a Jewish mother is when you're in a restaurant. They complain about every fucking thing. The music's too loud, it's too hot, it's too cold, there's a stain on the table cloth, the waiter's gay. The most embarrasing thing is when its time to order. She asks a million annoying questions, the waiter ends up having to tell her what the chefs blood type is, she asks for a detailed biography of each dish. And then ends up ordering the first one she asked about anyway. So then we actually get the food and of course, something's wrong. The food's too hot, too cold, not spicy, not fresh, not food. She then complains to us, like we even have anything to do with the fucking meal. Next, she grabs the waiter and bitches to him with the sternest attitude. The waiters must have a blast smearing her. It's so easy. Finally, the meal is done properly and she eats it. She's still bitching of course, but at least she's eating. The funniest thing is that she always says, "We're never coming here again." So we don't and eventually, we'll never go out again. Anyway, about the class change, the reason that I changed my discussion group is that I hated my teacher. She's one of those women who think they have to act powerful because they feel inhibited, due to the fact that they are actually female. She talks in this 'you are the scum of the earth and you're not worthy of this class and you should just die anyway' tone of voice. I would have stayed in it, except that she hated me so much, and having a teacher who hates you isn't good. Sure, they say that they'll be impartial, but that's bullshit, I know. I lived with a teacher for eighteen years and whenever the other teachers came over for dinner, they would sit around the table discussing how horrible all of the kids were. The reason that this bitch hated me was because she thought I was a Nazi. At the time I had an almost bald head, and I do admit that I resembled a skin head. She looked at me funny the first time she saw me and then when she found out that I lived in Germany for eighteen years, she freaked. Before I left her class I wanted to tell her a small poem: "Roses are red / Violets are blue / You are so lame / Cuz I'm really a Jew." What is this infatuation with dropping sperm? You know I mean jerking off. One of the guys here actually openly admits that he does it, so then everyone admitted it. They told their stories about how their parents caught them and other horrible things. What idiots. Actually, the going theory is that ninety-percent do it, ten-percent lie. Hell, come on, who the hell are we kidding? Rule one: never let your parents catch you. Lock doors, do it when they're in Yugoslavia, it doesn't matter. Once the parents know, you'll feel weird around them forever. Rule two: never make noise when you're doing it. Girls wonder why guys don't make noise when they fuck; it's because we're used to sperming in silence. Rule three: never let a friend see or hear you. This can ruin a friendship badly. Rule four: never use soap or shampoo to lubricate, it'll burn your dick off, especially when you pee. Use Vaseline or lotion and never, ever do it dry because it will give you Indian rug burn. Rule five: make sure you have no warts, callouses, or other protrusions on your hands because they can burn the skin right off of it and then you'll have to wait weeks before it heals again. Some of these stories the guys were telling me were hilarious. The Frat Guy who lives right next door was telling us, "I did it seven times in one day. I did it on my parents' bed, on the floor of the kitchen and in the shower." I was impressed, but not as impressed as I was when Max told us that he had done it at his bar mitzpha. Funny. I do admit that I have done it, but I haven't done it here at college once. It doesn't matter here. I also don't do it if I have a girlfriend because I feel like I'm cheating on her somehow. Oh well. I remember when I first started to think about sex. I remember how the James Bond ads with James firing through that woman's legs got me really excited. Those legs got me real excited. I've always been a 'legs' person. Marissa has beautiful legs. I don't care too much about breasts as long as they're not smaller than mine. Its a sick world. A girl has almost no chance of being asked out or liked unless she's pretty. I mean personality is important. In fact, it's the most important part, but I won't even consider a girl unless she's attractive. It's like a qualification they have to have. I have a great respect for people who go out with ugly people and are happy. Those are the true 'just' people in this world. Sex has become too important, I think. I learned that psychologically it is a basic need, but come on, a man could get through life with some Vaseline and the underwear section of the Sears catalog. I do admit my first time was awesome, and afterwards I wanted nothing but more. I was at this art conference on top of a mountain in a castle. I was a good artist in high school. I almost had a full art scholarship to Wisconsin. Anyway, the conference was only a week long. Every year I had been there I had met someone, and this year I met a lot of girls. My theory is this. You know how one year to a person is like seven years to a dog, right? Well, one hour at this conference is like a day to me. I met this Italian girl. Six hours later, or six days in my time zone, whatever, I had lost my virginity. I used a condom and I spewed in about five minutes. It started at about five o'clock, right before my parents came to see the art display. I was making out with her when my parents came. I rushed down to the art hall to see them. I looked like I just fucked someone. I didn't really care what they thought. Later, after the elders left, I went to a small room party and we started going at it at the end of the bed. I was getting so horny and she was wet as a rice field. The one thing I do remember was Marissa sitting at the other end of the bed. She had come too. I practically had to twist her arm to come. We were pretending she was my adopted sister so girls wouldn't think that I was with her. It worked too. Anyway, I was getting that unstoppable urge so we left to go to this girls room. We got into the room and she shut and locked the door. Then she got into bed and looked at me and said, "Come on in." I hit the light, grabbed the rubber and jumped in. We started kissing and I slowly peeled her shorts and underwear off. I looked at her cooch and smiled and thought, "If only you could see me now, Mom." Then I sort of freaked out because my mother had managed to pop in my mind at a time like this. Next I put on the condom and started the process. She screamed when I put it in, but then she was okay. I pumped maybe twenty times and then the eagle landed. It was like one of those oil drills when it strikes. I held her for about twelve minutes and then I went downstairs. I felt ashamed for some reason. I saw Marissa and she went up to me and asked me, "Did you do her?" I nodded yes, and she slugged me. She really had no right because she had her own boyfriend at the time and if it's okay for her, it was okay for me, but we all know that's not right. Then she turned around and left. I was happy she slugged me. I went back to the room and took a shower because I felt so filthy. That night the girl snuck into my room and got in bed with me and gave me a blow job. In the middle of it, I told her to leave and she did. I'm a moron. The next day I told Marissa how badly I felt and she held me. It felt good. People these days talk about the strangest things. I mean the nineties are so different than the eighties ever were. Everyone talks so liberally. I guess its like the sevetenties. Samantha was talking to us about this guy she had sex with. Samantha is weird in that not having sex is more important to her than having sex. I mean, if I have sex with a girl, it means something, like we shared something together. I'm a hypocrite again, because look at what I did my first time. The point is that Samantha has sex so much with so many different guys that if she would meet a guy that didn't just want her for her body she would be happy. All she wants is a guy who will love her because she's fun, smart and loyal, not because she's so willing to split her legs like an earthquake. Don't get me wrong, Samantha is a slut, but if she met the right guy, she would be so faithful. Anyway, she was telling us about this guy, Jason, that gave her cocaine before she did it and she told us all about the experience. It was the most graphic thing I ever heard. The thing that should be weird about this is that she was telling this to a room full of guys. Now, you know every guy had a pillow or blanket over his statue of liberty. Sometimes I really wonder what'll happen to her. I think maybe she'll die of some disease or drug overdose. She was already raped. She had gone out partying like always. At the time she was dating some fraternity male shithead. He was infatuated with her and her body, of course. We called him Jesus because that's who he looked like. Anyway, I guess one night Jesus brought her home to the dorm because she was passed out. I guess she took drugs and drank alcohol at the same time. Well, the next day in my room, Sam started to cry really hard and she told me what happened. I guess she woke up and next to her was a dirty condom and she said the room smelled like sex. She cried and cried and all I could do was tell her everything was okay. She didn't want to call the police of course, so we decided to get Jesus back. The bastard. So, I called Jesus at his frat house and acted like some crazy psycho and I told him I knew what he had done. He sounded so scared. Anyway, later that night he brought his frat friends over to Sam's to try and explain his idiocy. She called us up and me and about ten others went down stairs to meet Jesus. I had my hockey stick. All I can say is that at the end of the evening there was one mad fraternity, about ten open wounds, and one sterile Jesus. I scored a quadruple hat trick that night. But, no matter how much we got him back, it would never make up for what he did to her. Why do men have to be such schmucks? I'm a guy and I don't think I'm a schmuck. I guess I am. Oh well, some things you're just born with. To bad Jesus won't be dying with what he was born with. College is so stupid. I really, really hate my mother. I love Marissa more than anything right now. My whole life is a blur except for one thing, Marissa. My mother and I are fighting right now and I really hate her. She's a cruel person. She feels that I should not have sex at all, even though I'm reaching my sexual peak in about four hours. It's none of her business anyway. She says she hates it when I lie to her. I lie to her because I'm scared shitless of her. She over-exaggerates everything. She doesn't approve of Marissa because she's Mexican and because she's not walking around happy all of the time. My mother thinks she's rude. If a person accidentally doesn't say two words to my mother, she thinks that they're rude. Fuck her. I made about twenty calls to Marissa on my phone card which my mother gets the bill for. My mother called me and bitched for twenty minutes about forty-six fucking dollars. Bitch. She thinks she has to have total control over me all of the time. She's cruel and horrible. I told her that she needs to let go a little and trust me, but she didn't even hear it. She was really mad because I went to Tuscon, Arizona to see Marissa without telling her. I knew she wouldn't approve so I didn't tell her. Its really none of her fucking business anyway. I also won't tell her how serious I am with Marissa. I'm eighteen and I'm already engaged. Anyway, I went to Arizona in the back of a truck with some friends. It took twelve hours. I remember how we got stuck in L.A. traffic for three hours. My friend, Vince, was driving and I was sitting with him. He was bitching about California and how many people live here because of the fucking gold rush. He was also bitching about how tired he was. We were in the middle lane and sandwiched between about eight-thousand cars and I said, "Well, pull over if you're tired, HA, HA." I thought that was real funny. He didn't. Anyway, I went to Arizona and saw Marissa. I remember it perfectly. When I first went to her house to see her for the first time since we decided to get together, I was so nervous. We had fallen in love with each other over the phone and even though she loved me and the way I looked, I was scared. I knocked on the door and waited about thirty seconds and then she opened the door and there she was. "God, I made it," I thought. She was so beautiful. I held her so tightly and kissed her all over her face and I told her that I loved her and I did. We had the greatest time. It was three days of ecstasy. We made love, went to the movies, and just spent time together. I brought her the ring I bought her. It was cross between a promise ring and an engagement ring. I didn't really know what I was going to say when I gave it to her. I had said so much already. Anyway, we finally got to the motel and I asked her to sit down. I told her to close her eyes and I took the ring out of my bag and set it down behind her on the bed. I told her to open her eyes and she did. She looked wishful. I told her to feel behind her and she found the box. She looked at it and then looked at me. She opened it and gave that famous gasp of air that all women give when they receive a nice present. Then I did something crazy. "I know I say things all of the time, but right now I can only think of one thing to say. Marry me, please." Then, I put the ring on her left hand ring finger and looked and waited. She grabbed me and started kissing me and said, "Yes." Then we made love. Beautiful, isn't it? Anyway, so now I'm in total love and would do anything for her. I was so damn happy. Once again I'm a fucking hypocrite because I used to make fun of people like me. I hadn't told my mother yet because she could cause problems. It's sad, isn't it? You would think she would be happy that I found someone who cares about and loves me. She makes such a big deal about it. I've promised myself that I wouldn't let anything or anybody come between Marissa and I, especially my bitch mother. Forty-six fucking dollars she had a cow over, it's ridiculous. She's crazy. She threatened to take away my college tuition if I ever lied to her again. Isn't that nice? I almost wish I could just do it on my own. I don't want to be connected to her anymore. I can only imagine what she would do if she found if Marissa was pregnant. Bitch. I was still doing horribly in school. Especially now since all could I think about was Marissa. I wasn't going to fail out, though. Some how I knew I'd be okay. Marissa was coming here soon for five days. I was so excited. She was flying here and I was helping to pay. I just told my mother that her dad was paying for it. I can't believe Marissa's dad. He's a veterinarian and works in sales. That makes sense. I told my mother and she said she didn't approve of Marissa and that really hurt. I told her that we were kind of boyfriend-girlfriend, and that it was none of her business. She said that she didn't want her staying in the same room with me. I asked my mother what the hell she would do about it and once again told her to trust me and to mind her own business. The thing was that my mother was part right because we were young and stupid and sometimes did it without a condom, which is really stupid. I pull out before I cum and everything, but as Ben always says, "You always dribble before you shoot." Anyway, the day finally came when she was coming. The night before she came, she called me and was freaking out because she thought I wouldn't like her if saw her. I calmed her down and reassured her that I loved her and that she had nothing to worry about. Sometimes I wonder. We had to go to Burbank to pick her up, which was about an hour-and-a-half away. It took us two-and-a-half-hours. This is the story of my life. The only day that the city of Santa Barbara decides to work on their section of the 101 freeway happens to be the day we have to pick her up. It seemed like forever and I was stressing out hard. When we finally hit Burbank, we also hit every fucking red light in the damn city. Finally, we arrived at the airport and then I had to go and find her. I was so worried I had her paged. I was running around with a rose that I bought her earlier. It was then when I saw her. Ben had found her and I just stood there looking, staring. I just stood there, took her in. There she was, my future wife. I wanted to run to her and jump her, but instead I just walked up to her and hugged her real tight. I kissed her and told her that I loved her. It was so beautiful, like a movie. The whole week was wonderful. Having Marissa was the best thing that ever happened to me. We did so much together and had so much damn fun. We got even closer and now we were really serious, and I mean serious. We made love about twenty times in two days. It was incredble. We did it standing up, sitting down, but my favorite one was when she rode me. Man, that was out of control. I gave her about five orgasms and of course, I was satisfied every time. Some say that sex is better for women because they can endure the pleasure longer. The first time we did it, I released my cream in about five minutes, however, after that it took a little longer. That's when it got fun. I remember how we did it like four or five times in one hour. Boy, was I tired. Then something happened. We were about to do it again after dinner on the third day she was here and I looked at her underwear and I saw some blood. We had sex so much and my penis was so big that she was bleeding. I think that's terrible, in any case, we didn't make love for the rest of the trip. I was really worried about it, but she said not to worry. It didn't really matter to me that much because I'm content just holding her and kissing her. She kept apologizing for no reason and it bothered me. We still had the best time and the closer the day came that she had to leave, the more I kept feeling lost. I loved her so much and it was killing me. She did, however, satisfy my sexual urges through the power of her hands. She whacked me about five times and it was pretty nice. The night she had to leave, we watched TV together for about five hours. She just held me all night and finally I just started crying because I couldn't stand the thought of her leaving. That night I vowed that I would marry her if it was the last thing I ever did. The next day we just held each other and talked the whole day. I took her in a cab to the airport and we checked in. We were about two hours early. Why does the airline always tell you to come early? I mean, you just end up waiting there forever. It's stupid. Anyway, we just sat their together and talked. That's another thing I love about Marissa, I can talk to her for hours and I love to listen to her. I love her a lot. Finally, it was time for her to go and I got this huge lump of nothing in my stomach and I tried to hold back my crying and did. I watched her leave the gate and it looked like a freaking postcard. I called, "Marissa!" and she turned around. She was standing in the doorway and the sunset was behind her with her gorgeous hair blowing in the wind. "I love you." "I love you too." Then she turned and ran to the plane. I left slowly and started to cry. How was I to keep going on without her to touch? I guess I'd be alright. I rode the bus home and went to bed as soon as I got home. I felt like shit. Then Marissa called from LAX and told me she loved and missed me and I fell asleep crying for sorrow and joy. Wasn't that beautiful? My mother is the cruelest, meanest, and most heartless woman in the world. She wrote me a letter saying that she didn't approve of Marissa and she thinks I should date other girls. She made Marissa cry. Bitch. Since Marissa left I had been feeling so lost. I would go through little phases in the day. One minute I'd be happy and social, and then the next minute I'd be mean and pathetically quiet. I was turining into a manic depressive. I decided to go get some professional help so made an appoinment with a psychologist. I made the appointment during one of my down phases. Marissa's leaving wasn't he main reason that I was so lost and depressed. I think it was because my whole life was a blur and the only thing that made sense was Marissa, or at least my feelings for her. My mother was a big problem and the rest of my family wasn't helping any. I was failing school and I wasn't motivated to do better. The only thing that was keeping me from doing something drastic was Marissa. I decided that I needed something to keep my mind occupied like building something or volunteering, anything. I decided to ask the shrink when I saw him. I was getting real nervous about that. Actually, I was getting nervous about everything so I decided to go play hockey again. I hadn't played in three weeks and the only real reason was that I was just depressed and lazy. Anyway, I returned and actually had a great game. I had one goal and two assists and the team said that I had really improved a lot. The down side of the evening was that I broke tendons and ripped tissue in my wrist and had to spend three hours in the Student Health Center getting a splint. So now I have tendonitis and I can't even play hockey or do anything. Great. Its the story of my life. At this point I was thinking about suicide. I had never thought about suicide seriously until college. This is what college does to a person, it kills them, makes them into a psychotic lunatic. Its not that fucking wonderful like everyone says it is, okay? I really felt that I wanted to do it, but then I thought of Marissa and what she would go through and I thought of how great life will be when we're finally together and those things pushed the thought right out of my mind. Still, I felt like shit and I was kind of hoping the shrink would help. I went to the shrink the day after I hurt my wrist and I was in a very bad mood. I was in one of my down phases. I went to the office where all of the deranged and fucked up students go. It was a pink building surrounded by a bunch of gay flowers and other shit like that. The ladies at the front desk were really nice and I was real polite to them even though I hated everybody. I've always been polite to people, calling them sir or ma'am and other phony bullshit that make people like you more. Anyway, I told them at the desk about my appointment and they typed it into their little computer, smiled at me, and gave me a bunch of forms to fill out. I sat down in the lobby and looked around first. The people there looked so pathetic. One girl was sitting across from me and she looked like shit. Suicide was written all over her. Her face was pale and her hair was unkempt. She was just staring off into space looking hopeless. I smiled at her and she just stared. I was really freaking out now. I started to think that maybe I was wasting time here and I almost got up and left. Instead, I started to fill out the forms. The first form pissed me off so much. I had just got a wrist splint put on and the first thing that I have to fill out is one of those damn computer forms where you have to fill in the circles. So I filled it out even though it took me about ten fucking minutes. The rest of the forms were just questions concerning my personal life. One of the questions was my relationship status. It read: single, married, domestic partnership, committed relationship, and some other weird shit. I thought for a second and circled 'committed relationship' because of Marissa. The questions were about my family life and about what people were very important to me. I bitched about my mother a lot. Finally, I finished filling out the damn forms and I turned them in at the desk. They told me to wait and so I did. I sat in the lobby and checked out the people a little more. The girl kept staring off into space. I felt so sorry for her, I wanted to go to her and just hug her and hope that the color would return in her face and maybe she would cry or something. She was really bothering me. "Hi". I turned around and saw a small woman, my shrink. She was short, half-oriental, half-black, and dressed like a shrink, with the loose clothing in earth tones. "You must be--" I interrupted her, "Yep, that's me." "Come with me please," she said, and I followed her into the back to her office. "Please have a seat," she said. I said, "thanks," and sat down. Her office wasn't very impressive. The furniture was normal and the view outside was horrible. All you could see was a bunch of vines. I was really starting to feel uncomfortable and I told her this, and she asked me why. I got the feeling that I would have to end up explaining the reason for everything that I said. I told her that I didn't think I needed to see her. Anyway, she started asking questions about my family life. I ended bitching about my mother and school. I started blaming my mother for everything and explaining why. Then I started talking about Marissa a lot. The shrink kept asking me about her. I realized by the end of the session that my whole life was a blur and that the only thing that was a clear vision and that I was sure of was Marissa. That's funny because that's exactly how my diagnosis of myself went. She was the only thing keeping me going and it was very vital that I keep her. I was also brought to the realization that I was a manic depressive and that I had another appointment next week with this lady whom I didn't even know. Oh well. I left the office and walked to my class. On the way I tried to rationalize everything and try and make sense of everything to try and make myself feel better because I was seeing a psychologist. I couldn't. I wondered what people would think of me if they knew I was seeing a shrink. People think that they are so fucking great, like they are the only ones living or something. I had to do a paper for philosophy, a bullshit class, and when it was time to turn it in, everyone rushed to the front of the room like their paper was really substantial. I mean, the teachers have to grade two-hundred fucking papers. They just flip through it, count the pages, read some paragraph and give a B or an A. The thing that bugs me is that everyone runs to turn it in like their paper is special or something. In fact, people here act like they're the center of the universe. They're nothing, right? People in California think that this state is the whole fucking country. I hear people say, "I'm from the North." What, Washington? Virginia? Come on. Everyone thinks that what they do is so damn special. If the earth was one-hundred years old, my life would be .0000000000000000000000004 seconds long. No one really cares about you anyway. This is why you shouldn't be nervous and worry about your pride when you like someone. If you see someone you like then go and talk to them. The worst that can happen is they can reject you, big whoop. No one realy cares that you were rejected but you anyway. Since the world is this way, if you can find a few people who give you even a little attention when you speak or do something, you should keep in touch with these people or even marry them. My view is that if you can meet a person that you find attractive that cares for you as strongly as your parents did then this is the person you should marry. This person strongly cares for you, isn't that great, and so forth. Its weird, all my friends who are in serious long-term relationships dream about having sex and other things with other girls, and I never do that. I always dream about having sex with Marissa and no one else. That's true love, I think. Some relationships depress me. For example, my best friend and roomate, Ben, is trapped like a lab rat in this relationship with his girlfriend and he's drowning horribly. First of all, Ben has given up on love. He's twenty-one years old and he thinks that he'll never find a girl again. He is losing his hair, but that's not the point. The point is that he's healthy and has a ton of time left. He says that he wants to get married and have kids young so he can play with his kids when they're older unlike his father. That's the most ridiculous thing I ever heard. Anyway, he can't stand her anymore. She always calls him up crying about crap and he is so sick of it. I'm sick of it too. I figured out the reason she cries. She's trying to instigate negative reinforcement. She wants him to feel sorry for her. It's like when a child fakes being hurt so his mother will come over and hug him and make him feel wanted. It's the same thing. Anyway, Ben can't stand it anymore, because he's a practical guy. He's not the sympathetic type who cries about shit and says, "It's okay, baby, I love you and I won't let anything bad happen to you, I'll always be here for you forever." That's me. Anyway, here's a thing about his girlfriend, I remember when she came here for the weekend. Ben thought I was doing him a favor by staying at Max's room for three nights, but I was glad to do it because I couldn't stand being in the same room with this beast. First of all, she was so annoying. Her voice is fucked up because she can't breathe through her nose so she has the perfect wining voice. She kept whining about everything. Ben was so cruel. She happened to come on the same weekend of the NFC championship game and he left her for four hours to go watch sports. What an asshole, right? Ben is obsessed with sports, he would rather watch a football game than fuck his girlfriend, what an idiot. Actually, I would rather swim than fuck Ben's girlfriend. The point is that he doesn't even like her and he always tells her that he loves her. It's a ridiculous situation, out of control. The reason I was so pissed off at him was that I had to keep her company for four hours because I felt so sorry for her. I had the kind of sympathy you have for a dog dying from being infected with radioactive toxic waste, you want to console it but you don't want to get too close because it's gross and all. I took her into town for pizza and we actually had some good conversation. She was talking to me about how much she loved Ben and then we started talking about the sex and how fucking great it was. I was so grateful I had Marissa at the end of this conversation. On the way back from town, she was bitching and crying the whole time about how she got her white pants dirty. Who cares. Anyway, when we got back, Ben was still watching football. I couldn't believe it because she saw him and she just accepted it. If I ever did something like that, which I wouldn't, Marissa would disown me. Anyway, she finally left and Ben wasn't even around to say goodbye because he had homework to do. Isn't this the saddest story ever? The point is that now he wants to dump her, but he's to much of a man to do it. She'll get over it. I'm such an asshole because I'm telling Ben to basically ruin his girlfriends life, but I think that he's hurting her worse by not loving her. It's the worst situation ever. He's such a putz. Anyway, I'd been real depressed ever since my little appointment with the shrink. It was just an intake session so I decided to just hang in there until the next week. I hadn't studied in three weeks and I was failing everything. I'd been having a lot of ups and downs. One minute I'm Mr. Funny Lover and the next I'm Dr. Death. So what. I'd been rude to all of my friends and they're being very patient and tolerant. I was so sorry and all, but I just felt so lost, if it wasn't for Marissa, I would have killed myself. My friends were doing fine I guess, I really don't concern myself with their problems lately. I guess Samantha is fucking some other guy now. He's in some frat. She's actually been seeing this one longer than two days so maybe he'll break the record. Who knows. Who really cares. Max is the same as always, stupid. He's running around all of the time bitching how he doesn't have the balls to talk to girls. Its getting real old and boring. I just want to be left alone for once. I'm so sick of people knocking on my door. Every time I go into my room to take a nap or just relax someone knocks on my fucking door. It pisses me off so much, I want to kill people. Bastards. I think I need a vacation from everything and everybody. So then I had to go and see the fucking shrink again and I was thinking of not going. I knew I was going to go so I told myself I should just shut the fuck up about it. I was feeling a little better actually. I think I just missed Marissa a lot, no big whoop. I did, however, meet a new friend lately My sociology class's discussion section is the best class I ever took and I love it. It's like a counseling group almost. The teacher is this cool Jewish woman. She's thirty, but she comes off to me at about twenty-five or six. She's real funny and is the kind of person that would understand me. Anyway, I think she likes me because she always talks to me and treats me like I'm her equal. I started to hang out with her lately and I have so much fun talking to her. She thinks I'm real funny and she's cheered me up a lot. I'm always looking for single men for her now, but it's so hard. The thing that makes her so great is that she's already self-actualized; this means that she knows who she is and she's content with it. Usually, people don't become self-actualized until they're around sixty or sixty-five. She's so happy all of the time and she always has an opinion. I'm hoping to know her a lot better. She also thinks that I should get together with a nice Jewish girl. I'm so sick of hearing that. Once and for all, I love who I love and I don't give two shits whether or not she's Jewish and no one will ever change my mind. Anyway, I went to the damn shrink again. I went about twenty minutes early for no reason at all. I waited outside and watched people go by on roller-blades, bikes, skate boards, and their legs. People kept looking over at me funny probably because I was sitting in front of the god damn pink building. They all thought I was a nut. Fuck them. About ten minutes before my appointment, I went in and checked in at the desk. The same nice ladies were there and I filled out the necessary forms. Why are these forms necessary, anyway? They end up in a drawer and once every six months it's taken out and not even looked at and then put back. It's stupid. Finally, after about twenty more minutes and thirty more forms, she came out and got me. I went back to her office. Once again, I reminded myself of the stupidity of this whole thing. Then I was shocked into depression and anger. As I sat down, my shrink started telling me stuff I didn't want to hear. "I've been thinking about you and I've decided to make you appointments to see some other psychiatrists and to have some medication prescribed for you." I got so scared. Was I really that fucking nuts? I thought for a minute and then went crazy. What a bitch. She had one god damn session and she's ready to give me drugs. "Sure, don't talk to me and help, just drug me and make everything worse," I said. What assholes. I told her to kiss my ass and I left. I left thinking, "I'm never going back again." This proves that no one can ever help you. The only person you can really rely on is you. I was shocked. Anyway, it kind of helped because it made me feel a little motivated to do things. The point right now is that life is totally confusing. I'm lost and so are thirty-thousand other pathetic college putzes. I walk around all day in eternal depression, my parents suck shit, but I shouldn't bitch because at least they love me and they're together. I know a guy who is about a hundred and fifty pounds over weight and I just found out that he has a brain tumor. This damn year is almost over already. I need to just pick myself up and stop feeling sorry for myself. People worry about ridiculous things. I have a friend who told me something once and I'll never forget it. He said, "You have to know when to say, 'I don't give a fuck,'" and he's 110% right. Who really does give a fuck. The world just keeps spinning and you go through the same cycle everyday and you just keep going on and try to find someone to love you for you somewhere in the middle of it all. As my friend Vince always says, 'Life is shit, and then you go get a sandwich." Thank God. What the hell does that saying mean anyway? I mean, it doesn't mean that we're thanking God, because grammatically we're telling another person to thank God and there's no reason for that person to thank God if you're the one who's grateful. You should say, "Thank you, God." And then God should say, "You're welcome, here's a million dollars and eternal happiness." Yeah, right. Anyway, I was so glad when the quarter finally ended. College is starting to really drain me physically and mentally. I'm turning into a nut case, I have tendonitus, an ulcer, and now I'm breaking out with acne. I really, really hate pimples. First of all the name, 'pimple,' 'zit,' it's revolting. It sounds like they're new editions to the Red Hot Chili Peppers. There's Flea, Pimple, and Zit. Since I was about fourteen I had zits, and sometimes they would get out of control, but never to the point where I was known as a pizza face. Some people have a medical problem and their face looks like a disease. I really feel for these people. Anyway, I do enjoy popping my zits. I love when I get those really big red ones that look almost like balloons, and they have just a smidge of puss on the top. When you squeeze them perfectly, you can squirt the gallons of puss about three or four feet into the mirror and this is the really crazy thing, you can even hear it explode. I used to get those underneath my nose. Then there is the deep, two inches under your skin zit, that when you try and pop it, you do nothing, but damage the nerves in your body. Most zits pop fairly easily, but I always found it interesting how some just won't give no matter how hard you squeeze. One time I was squeezing at a zit so hard that a pimple all the way on the other side of my face exploded. Fascinating. Anyway, the quarter was horrible. Aside from getting bad grades, not seeing Marissa for two months, and my bank account shrinking faster than my muscles, the Kings fell into fourth place. No really, the quarter had gotten so bad that I contimplated suicide. I had the same facial expression for about a week once. I just wanted to get away from it all. I almost really tried it, but I cried one night and that really helped. I jumped on Ben's bed with him while he was studying one night and told him how depressed I was. "I'm depressed, too," he said, and then he told me about how he's almost twenty-two and he doesn't even know what he's going to do with his life and how nobody gives a fuck about him. Then he told me a joke or something stupid and I started to laugh into his pillow. Then the laugh turned into crying. I just cried and cried. Ben didn't realize that I was crying for awhile, but when he did, he tried to comfort me. "Everything will be alright," he said, and I stopped for a minute and, man, did I feel better. Crying is good I guess. I hadn't cried like that in all my life. What dickhead ever wrote the rule that says that men shouldn't cry? I'm so sick of all this macho bullshit, guys should be able to hug each other just as comfortably as they do on Masterpiece Theatre. That cry revived me, I swear, it was so powerful. Well, thank you God that the quarter is over, I said to myself. Spring break was here and I was ready to just relax and collect my life. I was supposed to go down to Ben's for four days and just relax, and then drive down to Arizona and see Marissa for one damn day. Ben was visiting someone he knew up there. I was so relieved that I was leaving. I had finished my finals and to be honest, I think I failed my classes, and I'm probably going to be on acedemic probation next quarter, oh well. I studied one night before each final for about a half an hour. I just didn't care anymore, but I plan to be better next quarter. That night, after my last final, I decided to drink myself to sleep to put myself out of my misery. I didn't even care about my ulcer. I gave Ben some money to go buy me a bottle of Southern Comfort and I got my shot glass ready. I decided to start drinking at about seven o'clock with Vince. We started taking shots, switching off with each other. Of course, people came into my room because when there's even a minute chance that they may get a shot of alcohol, the heathens are your best damn friend. I was so depressed and grateful that the quarter was over. It had to have been the hardest eleven weeks of my entire life. I had never gone through something so draining and detremental. I just wanted to pass out for about three days. Vince and I kept on doing shots with each other. It was so fun because we were fucking something before each shot. Vince would hold up a shot and proclaim, "Fuck the fraternities." Then I would raise my shot glass and say, "Fuck my mother," and Vince would say, "I've already fucked her and she wasn't that good," and it went on and on. Finally, after we each had had ten shots, Vince gave up and left to go puke. It was funny, I was doing fine. I felt so dizzy though. We put the bottle away in Ben's drawer and everyone left the room. By now I was so fucked up. I was just dizzy and delirious. I put myself down on the floor and just laid there thinking about how great I felt. I decided to drink some more. I opened up Ben's drawer and pulled out the bottle. I sat in my room by myself with a shot glass and a bottle fucking evrybody. "Fuck my mom again," I said. "Fuck the people who say, 'I'm tired, I have a midterm,' as if fourteen-thousand other students don't have a fucking midterm." I did this for about an hour, and before long I realized that the bottle was almost empty. I think I had twenty shots of Southern Comfort. I was so gone it was pathetic. I don't remember much except that I blew chunks three times, but at least I got it into the toilet. The crazy thing was that I never really passed out. I actually went to breakfast at six in the morning feeling okay. I was weak. I guess I left about sixteen messages on Samantha's answering machine. I heard them all. God, was I drunk. I was mumbling something about Lee Iococca. Go figure. I realized that when I'm drunk my true feelings come out. I was expressing my hatred for some people, but at the same time expressing my love for some people. One person that I expressed my truthful undying love for was Marissa. I said that I loved her and I want to spend the rest of my life with her. I couldn't believe hearing something that I didn't even remember saying. I don't think I had ever been that far gone in my entire eighteen years of existence. I promised myself never to get that drunk again. What a way to end the quarter. The whole week at Ben's house was great because all I did was sleep and eat. I was in a comatose state or something. I was also so excited to see Marissa. Driving all the way to Phoenix with Ben was really a thing that I was excited about. The things I do for a woman. First of all, I'd be spending about 100 dollars to go see her for about sixty hours. I'd be driving part of the way and I don't even have a permit yet and I've never really driven a car before. Ben must be psycho to let me drive. You would think I'm just going to get sex to which would be a more believable in this society, but it's the end of the month and that's when she's on her period. So the reason I was doing all of this is that I love her more than anything and if I didn't see her soon, I'd die. I'm such a romantic. Anyway, we left Ben's early Thursday morning and I was all hyped up. We drove for about three hours at about ninety miles-an-hour and we were making good time. Finally, Ben decided to pull over and let me drive part of the way. I was so nervous, I had never driven before and I was scared shitless. I decided to just calm down and do it. If I freaked out, I would probably crash so I just bit my lip and did what I had to do. I pulled out of the gas station on to the street in front of the on-ramp. The car was automatic with power steering so it was fairly easy to drive. I waited for the light to turn green and when it did I zoomed up the on-ramp onto the freeway. We were kind of close to the desert so there weren't many cars there. I easily migrated to the freeway and got into the slow lane. I was driving about seventy at first just trying to get comfortable and then I got brave. About a half an hour later I was in the fast lane and I glanced down at the spedometer. I was going a hundred and fifteen miles-per-hour my first time driving. We were flying. I ended up driving all the way to Phoenix and it only took about four or five hours. Ben dropped me off at the airport where I was supposed to get a bus to Tuscon. We were early because of my speedy arrival. I was really excited now. The bus trip took about two hours I think, I really wouldn't know because I was sleeping the entire time. I woke up in Tucson and, of course, like everything else, my stop was the very last one. I was supposed to meet Marissa at a mall. When the bus pulled up I was so excited, but also tired. I stepped out and looked around for her, but I didn't see her, I was dissapointed. Then I turned around as I was getting my bag and there she was coming out of the mall, and she looked perfect. She quickly came over and I held her and kissed her. I hugged her real tight and took a huge breath to get her smell again. Man, was the drive worth it. What does she do to me? I spent two nights with her and one day. The first night we stayed at a motel and it was the most peaceful night I ever had. Why couldn't it always be like this? That whole day was spent just doing the things we do together, movies, and just walking and talking. I was in dream land. The next night her aunt was going out of town so I stayed in the house with Marissa. We did something that night that I have always dreamed of doing. We watched TV together on the couch while holding each other. That in itself is something so special to me. I just wish that I could do stuff like that with her all of the time. Its so simple, but then its so complicated. Its so unfair, but life could be a lot worse, I know. Saturday morning it was time to go and I was feeling like crap. I didn't want to go more than anything and I wished to God that I had the liberalism and guts to just stay and forget everything else, but I'm trapped. So she drove me to the mall and we were about a half and hour early which is horrible since I have to stand there and look at her and know that I won't be looking at her in an hour. It hurts badly. The bus came and I decided to go. I kissed her for a long time and held her. "I love you," she said. "Ditto," I said, and I got on the bus and went to the back. I put on my Walkman and turned it up all of the way trying not to cry. Five minutes went by and I turned around. Marissa was just sitting there waiting for the bus to leave. I sat there looking at her and wanting her, debating in my head if I should push my way to the front of the bus, disrupting everyone on the bus just to hold her for two more minutes. Finally I just got up and pushed my way to the front of the bus. "Excuse me please, excuse me, thank you," I urged. People were giving me looks as I stepped on all of their personal belongings, but I didn't care. I jumped off of the bus and ran toward Marissa and she got up and came toward me. I got to hold her for two more minutes, and then I really had to go and I did. Marissa left and I got back on the bus, once again pushing everyone out of the way to get to my seat. I slept again on the way back and met Ben at the airport. I drove part of the way home again, but this time I drove a lot slower. I just wasn't in the mood to go fast.. Being upset with your one and only love is one thing, but losing all respect for her is another. I swear, I'm so upset right now, and confused. I can't believe she said what she said. It was the weekend after finals, and I was getting very anxious to see Marissa. God, I missed her so much, and I had waited for so long, and I had been totally faithful. I was very proud of myself. I went to Ben's on Friday, and that night, I just visited, and played with everybody. Ben's brother, Eric, whom I have become very close friends with, and I played hockey together, and I was having so much fun. The family across the street with the girl, Suzi, who was very religious was great. I played with them, and became so close. I loved that place so much, I was very sad that I was leaving. It seems like there's no worries down there when I'm there. I just have fun, and I always get nothing but compliments from everybody. They all love me so much, and I can feel it too. God, I miss them, and especially Ben, Suzi, and Eric. Anyway, it was Suzi's birthday, and we went out with her all day, and took her roller-blading everywhere. God, all we did was laugh and have fun. I felt like myself for the first time in a very long while. I was running around joking with everybody. I hadn't felt this way since the beginning of the year. Anyway, there was this girl there that I met this time. She was one of Suzi's friends, and she came to go roller-blading with us. The first thing she saw me doing was running around acting goofy like I used to, making everyone laugh. She was sitting on the lawn outside of the house putting on her blades and just smiling wider than ever. At first glance, I said to myself, "She's kind of cute," but then that was it. Her name was Cassandra, but you pronounced it "Cuss-ON-dra" or she got mad. Cute name, right? Anyway, we went out roller-blading by the water, and everywhere else. The whole time, it seemed I was talking to Cassandra, getting to know her better. She was cute, and she made me laugh a lot. It takes a very funny person to make me laugh genuinely. This is because I look at myself as funnier than most everyone else, but that's kind of conceited, but who gives a shit. Anyway, we stopped in this parking lot near the beach, and everyone took a break. I skated off to the side a little just practincing jumps, and then I just fell on my ass, and just layed there. I looked up at the sky ,and I couldn't believe it. It was beautiful, there were so many stars, and they looked so bright. I just layed there staring. Anyway, Cassandra came over, and offered to help me up, but I just said no and continued to lay there. "What are you doing?" she asked. "Oh, just staring at the sky, God is it big and beautiful," I answered. She decided to lay down right next to me, and there we were, two people, who just met each other, one person from Germany, for Christ's sake, and one from Fullerton, California. Isn't that in itself amazing? Well it is to me. "What are we looking at?" she asked. "God, it's so big, doesn't it make you think? We are so small, so minute. That sky makes us look like nothing, we are nothing," I said. "What do you mean?" she bluntly countered. "Of course we're something. I'm something, and I'm proud of it. You're something, and it's great. I'm just glad to be here, alive, and able to actually look up at the stars, and make a wish on a shooting one." Wow, I thought, she's great. She made me feel so good, and I wanted to tell her, but of course didn't. I replied to her, "You believe in that stuff, shooting stars and all?" "Of course. The last time I wished on a shooting star, my wish came true," she said. "Oh yeah? What did you wish for?" I asked. "I can't tell you," she said, "it's betraying the wish." "Whatever," I said, and just kept on staring up. "I've never seen a shooting star before," I mentioned. "Well, just keep looking, and you'll see one." "Okay," I said, and for the first time since I was in grade school, I didn't feel cynical, or critical, I just looked up at the gorgeous California sky, and waited for a star to come. I was so grateful to Cassandra for saying that to me, and for once in my life, think about something with positive emotion, and not worry. "Thank you, Cassandra," I said softly. "For what?" she asked. I paused for a minute, and answered, "Oh, nothing." So we layed there together staring, and hoping, and wondering why we each feel this nervous feeling towards each other, that we haven't felt since high school probably. Man, what a night. Anyway, the next night we had a party for Suzi at her house. We had a barbeque, and cake. It was really nice. Everyone was there, including Cassandra, who baked the cake. When I brought our the cake, I sang "Happy Birthday" to Suzi like Marylin Monroe sang it to John F. Kennedy. It was really funny, and sweet at the same time. After we ate cake, I went to use the phone to call Marissa to say goodbye because she was leaving from Tucson the next day to Germany. Anyway, I started to talk to her, and I was saying goodbye, but she was being sort of bitchy to me. Anyway, the subject of public opinion came up when she asked me what I think people will say about her and I being together when we get home. Personally, I don't care what they say, but I asked Marissa, "I don't know Marissa, what are you going to say when they ask you about us?" She answered me, but when she did, she all but destroyed my respect for her. "Oh, I'm just going to say its nothing." I must have been hit by lightning or something, I couldn't believe what she had just said. I yelled, "What the hell do you mean, NOTHING?!" She said something about them making fun of her, and I just exploded. I couldn't believe she cared about what other people said. I was so hurt, and upset so I just went off. "So, I guess when I'm holding you in public, and some stupid friend comes up, you're just going to pull away from me?" I was livid. "If that's what you really believe then why don't you just forget it!" she yelled back. "FINE!" I answered, and I just hung up. I was so hurt, and angry. I just sat in the living room. and held my head. Damn her, why does she always have to hurt me like this? All I ever did was love her, and try to make her as happy as I could. I felt as if she took the whole fucking thing for granted, like she didn't appreciate me. I was really in bad shape. Eric came in the room, and asked me what was wrong, and when I told him, he put his arms around me and hugged me. All I could think at that point was, "at least I have friends." I love them so much, but I am really bummed.
 
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