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Dylan Klebold's Journal

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<<-VoDkA->>
4-15-97
Poetry? my way

Da ThoughtZ Jeah

  Well well, back at it, yes, (you say) [scribble] whoever the fuck 'you' is, but yea. My life is still fucked, in case you care... maybe,... (not?) I have just lost fuckin 45$, & Before that I lost my zippo & knife - (i did get those back) Why the fuck is he being such an ASSHOLE??? (god i guess, whoever is the being which controlls shit) He's fucking me over big time & it pisses me off. OOOh god i HATE my life, i want to die really bad right now - let's see what i have that's good: A nice family, a good house, food, a couple good friends, & possessions. What's bad: no girls (friends or girlfriends), no other friends except a few, nobody accepting me even though i want to be accepted, me doing badly & being intimidated in any & all sports, me looking wierd & acting shy - BIG problem, me getting bad grades, having no ambition of life, thats the big shit. Anyway... I was Mr. Cutter tonight - I have 11 depressioners on my right hand now, & my fav. contrasting symbol, because it is so true & means so much [sketches in margin labeled 'thought picture' and 'cut'] - The battle between good & bad never ends... OK, enough bitchin... well im not done yet. ok so... I dont know what i do wrong with people (mainly women) - its like they all set out to hate & ignore me, i never know what to say or do, [edited] is soo fuckin lucky he has no idea how I suffer.
  ok here's some poetry... this is a display of one man in search of answers, never finding them, yet in hopelessness understands things...

  Existence..... what a strange word. He, set out by determination & curiosity, knows no existence, knows nothing realevent to himself. The petty destinations of others & everything on this world, in this world, he knows the answers to. Yet they have no purpose to him. He seeks knowledge of the unthinkable, of the indefineable, of the unknown. He explores the everything...using his mind, the most powerful tool known to him. Not a physical barrier blocking the limits of exploration, time thru thought thru dimensions.... the everything is his realm. Yet, the more he thinks, hoping to find answers to his questions, the more come up. Amazingly, the petty things mean much to him at this time, how he wants to be normal, not this transceiver of the everything. Then, ocuring to him, the answer. How everything is connected yet seperate. By experiencing the petty others' actions, reactions, emotions, doings, [scribble] and thoughts, he gets a mental picture of what, in his mind, is a cycle. Existence is a great hall, life is one of the [scribble] rooms, death is passing thru the doors, & the ever-existant compulsion of everything is the curiosity to keep moving down the hall, thru the doors, exploring rooms, down this never-ending hall. Questions make answers, answers conceive questions, and at long last he is content.

TTYL <<-VoDkA->>


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