Pity ’tis a fool!

Whimsical with tremendous amounts accumulating so late, too late, of Delerium Tremens from the junkies who can’t get their fix of drugs like the Dead Fools hooked on opiates, too late, they met their fate — trading the TEMPORARY drug-induced joy for an eternity in Hell for killing themselves, WHEN I HAVE NO TEMPTATION TO HURT MYSELF OR ANY OTHERS, not throwing punches, not yelling, I’m “cool, calm, and collected” according to my Mom who met my English teacher Mr. John Deedy at parent-teacher conferences at Saint John’s Catholic, Private High School, and I don’t find it amusing in the least of when this John Deedy raped my penis and my anus and my mouth shortly after I graduated from the SJ High School, from where he has been fired, so he is retired, maybe working a lowly job to afford him the gay sex drugs he was addicted to, sometimes teaching his classes with a hint of methamphetamine in his coffee he’d drink, like once Mrs. Bouvier came into the class and took a sip of his coffee, maybe to test the taste, seeing if it was adulterated with his drugs, and not only that but he would wear cock-rings to school, teaching with them on, and having both nipples pierced, his anal rape of me in 2001 or 2002 left me in pieces!

And when all of these evil fucks wanted me to total my car, after they put me under such extreme pressure to drink when I was so sad, my parents said “You can’t live at home anymore and you have to get a full-time job somewhere,” quitting college, when I had to withdraw from Calculus I that day when I WAS “SET-UP” that many people told me in the morning when I was in bed, “You’re going to have to kill yourself!”

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