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MEMOIRS OF A DYING CHILD
THE LIFE OF ANDREW CLARKE









CONTENT ADVISORY
This page contains material that is suited for ADULTS only. The topics discussed herein are for a mature audience, and you must be of the legal age in your area to view adult material.
CONTAINS: Consensual Rape, Male-to-Male sexuality, Female-to-Male sexuality, Female-to-female sexuality, Group activities, Watersports, Fisting.










This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

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Life & Death

      I watched them die, I lost friends and lovers in my short long life. Most died of drug O.D. or AIDS. I lost a few to darkness and some just vanished in time. I've never been afraid of death; I was always scared of dying. I watched Steven die of AIDS, he was only twenty-one I watched as the disease tore him apart, ripping away at his life energy. I cried every night for a month after he died, not because he was gone but because I was scared, scared to ever catch that vileness. I try to think how life could be worse, and there isn't anything that would be. I've talked to friends who believe they were going to die, and the only thing I could think about, was losing them, and I realized how selfish I was. I don't ignore their fears, I try to block it out, cause we all die, death violates life, it's the ultimate rape. Do you know what I hate about death? It's so final. And the truth is, that I have died before and I remember the pain I felt then, and I remember the ecstasy of being dead, and free. Life is shit but death is shittier.

No Turning Back

      We always look back to the past. Some bizarre aspect of our human nature. People tell me the seventies were the best years, others say the AIDS free, drug, sex and R&R sixties, I don't agree with anyone. The best years were the nineties. You knew people, you thought the end was coming cause everything was "in" in the nineties: punk, Goth, hippies, Victorian, folklore, Satanism, Judaism, homosexuality, bisexuality. I was always waiting for the gay artist of the week or the new wave of old style music. Being queen was in if you were straight, but there was something wrong with having a gay sex life. Racism was out, or so they said, but everyone hated one race or another. Religious freedom was in, as long as you didn't promote your beliefs. We didn't fear the Russians; we were afraid of ourselves. Though I still believe those years were the best, I don't believe I could have got away with my lifestyle in any other period, it's kind of funny that the best of times was also the worst of times.

Thirty Years

      Originally "Thirty Years" was about the last thirty years, but half way through writing it I discovered that the overview was a waste of time and space. You may have read the previous twenty or so pages, most of it may have seemed extreme, shallow, or even stereotypically prejudicial; you might be right. I am who I am, sometimes I wish I was someone else, someone normal. I wasn't born normal, I was born gay, or bi, whatever. From my first breath, I wasn't a normal man, I had stronger feelings, better taste, and less chance for survival. I didn't choose this life, nor would I choose any other life. For the last thirty years, I've hungered for company. I've only wanted love, a perverted love, I submitted myself to punishment because I needed to be punished. I was raped as a kid, because I was born wrong. I was raped by my lovers, because I wouldn't commit to normality. I know I'm not mortal, I know that I'll live forever. My soul is immortal. All our souls are. Thank you for listening, goodnight.

END

March 12th, 1991

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© 1991-2002 by Sterben von Todsleben
sterben@reflektionen.net


Inspiration:
this was the first story I ever wrote, and certainly was inspired by event in my own life, not to mention some of the thoughts and phantasies I was having during those times.




since January 20th, 2002


This site is Copyright © 1991-2002 by Sterben von Todsleben, email: sterben@reflektionen.net
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