Date: Tue, 18 Dec 2018 11:46:00 +0000
From: Bogan <nifty.bogan@protonmail.com>
Subject: Former Street Rat 07

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like this site and we don't want it to go away.

Hey Dean, I wrote this before our last couple of conversations.  So it's
not intended to refute what you've been saying.  And I wanna say thank you
for making me smile.

These stories are my memories.  I might change names, places and other such
detail, but they are my memories.  If you wanna use the stuff in here as a
jumping off point for your own stories, that is fine by me.  Just remember,
these are my memories.

**************************************

It never really goes away.  No matter how many years go by.  No matter how
mundane your life might seem, it always comes back.  You will never get
away from it.

It comes back in the sound of a diesel engine that is idling.  The noise
sends you pacing back and forth, feeling desperate.  You tell yourself that
it is just a garbage truck.  That's it.  Nothing more.  Nothing less.  But
as you feel the vibrations in your chest, you are overwhelmed.  And you
don't know what to do.

Your mind knows that there is no threat.  But your heart...  or your
soul...  something in you just won't be convinced.  And you want to run.
And you want to stand and fight.  And you want to crumple and cry.  You
want to scream your rage at the world.  And you want to whimper in defeat.

It comes back in the eyes of some random kid in a crosswalk.  It hits you
in the face like a 2x4.  You think that you're prepared for anything.  That
you've been hardened.  That nothing will ever surprise you again.  But then
you see those watery blue eyes.

You've seen them before. You've seen the fear and the anguish.  You've seen
the hope and the pleading.  And the accusations.  And you want to open your
mouth and let out all the regret and guilt that you've buried in the pit of
your gut.

It comes back in your dreams.  When you can feel the weight of a grown man
on top of you.  Pushing you into the tile.  You feel the heat of his breath
on your ear as he leans in.  And the pain of his words hurt every bit as
much as the cock that is ripping into you.

"Why are you crying.  This is what you want."

It never goes away.  You will never be free.

But everyday you still get up.  You stand tall, if not proud.  Because you
made a vow to yourself.  You promised that you would never be a victim
again.  That you would always fight back.  That you would never roll over
and die politely.  And keeping your promise is important.  Otherwise, words
mean nothing.

You keep putting one foot in front of the other.  Mindlessly.  While eddies
of shit ebb and flow around you.  The passions that enflame your co-workers
is just dust in your mouth.  So they believe that you must have a 12 inch
cock because you don't care about their petty pissing contests.

And you unleash on a poor 16 year old boy.  A teen who had the misfortune
to call your past "cool."  Never seeming to understand all the pain that
you had to endure.  The loneliness.  The loss.  The fear.  Yeah, how cool.

Or the 19 year old who told you that you "hide your homosexuality quite
well."  And you unleash a torrent of vitriol.  Pathetic.  Loser.  Blind
fool.  Idiot.  And they wither in front of you like wax before a blow
torch.

And as you hug your pillow to you at night.  You wonder what is the
difference between you and all the tricks who made sure to remind you of
how worthless you really are.

Bogan
nifty.bogan@protonmail.com