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Description
CUNT:
The Life, Thoughts and Dreams of Kandice Plain
June 2003

I'm Kandice. I’m 19, almost 20. Well, 1 month and I think a week away. I’m too tired to actually think about it and add it up. I like to tell people interesting things about me. It gives them insight into who I am and what I am about. I wrote this without the intentions of submitting it, but I decided to, because it will help people better understand me in ways that I cant normally cant just come right out and say.

I like to lay down in the bathtub and smoke joints. One I'm nice and high, I love to masturbate. Orgasms are always better when your high and something about the texture of my fingers when they’re like prunes, turns me on even more.

After the bath I usually sit in the floor naked and write my poetry. Its the only place I can escape to for peace and quiet, even though I put my headphones on full blast escaping to a violent state of mine where everything is solved through murder and suicide.

Once you have me for a little while, you will have me forever. If you try to run away, I will be right behind you. Its hard to escape me, I'm obsessive compulsive so I’ll never let you go.

I don't just wash my hands once. I scrub them four or five times in a row. Same goes with showers. The reason behind that is because when I was in fourth grade, my speech teacher at school smelled rotten, and from then on, I vowed to stay cleaner then clean.

I remember this time when I was 13 years old. My mom and dad always worked long hours and were barely ever home. So one day, I went into my dad’s room and stole a few of his “Playboy” magazines. Staring at Pamela Anderson on the cover, I was about to open it. Just at that moment, my dad walked in and started screaming at me. “You stupid little fucking CUNT!” Is all my dad seemed to know how to say. Crying, I got up to go to my room, and my dad grabbed me by the hair and slammed my head into the hallway wall.

My ears rang for a day because of him.

I have the worst memory. That's why I take pictures of everyone. (Just in case I forget who they are or what they look like).

Two years ago I was the complete opposite of how I am now. I was hooked on crack-cocaine. I know, such a dirty drug-- but wow, did it give me the best feeling in the world. Pay day at work on February 14th 2001, was the worst day of my life. I got $400.00, and I knew that I had to pay my car insurance with that money, but instead, I went out and bought 20 rocks. I was a crack head. So to fix my bad mistakes, I went and wrote hot checks to pay my bills, just making my life even worse.

I’ll never get another checking account again.

I usually talk really fast, the subject that I talk about changes more often then it was started and I always get left in a drunken state of confusion, unaware of what I was talking about.

I’m afraid of ceiling fans, worms, asphyxiation and getting stabbed in the face. Even though I have no relevant reasons to be afraid of them. I like to question the reason why I'm alive, but never question the reason why I want to die.

Some people say I'm too open about my life, my thoughts, my sexuality, my dreams and aspirations. But really, I think other people are just too closed.

I pull out my eyelashes and make wishes on them, blowing them off my fingers and praying that my wish will come true. My dad told me this morning, “I’m more important to your mother then you are, because I'm married to her, and all you are is her daughter.” I cried later on in the privacy of the bathroom floor. Praying, Hoping and wishing that my life is just a big nightmare and that at any moment I will wake up to a beautiful reality. So far, I’m still dreaming.

C U N T PART 2

I grew up having a perfect life. Nice parents. Great Family. Beautiful Vacations. Lots of Love. But one day it all stopped. Do you know what it feels like to be lied to your whole life? To be told that you were a mistake that an abortion couldn't fix?

When I was 13, the day before Fathers Day I found out that my dad wasn’t my real dad after all. My real father was a low life drug addict in Houston, Texas, (where I was born and raised.) He got my mom pregnant and dumped her when she was 17. My mom met my “new dad” when I was 18 months old and decided that lying to me would be the best way for me to not get hurt by a bastard “sperm donor” ( as I call him) that doesn't care.

My mom and dad now show me how much they care about me by asking me why I didn't just go through with killing myself. My response to that, is “ I like living to torture you.”

I have a phobia of hearing people eat. I eat by myself and will not put myself into a situation where I'm around anyone that's eating. I'm not sure why, and doctors haven't been able to figure it out either. The sound of crunching has just always bugged me to the point where Id rather insert scissors into my ear canal then deal with the horrid sound I hear.

I got a note today from Komacyde, an artist here on deviantART. He said, “When you exchange messages with others and shit, you always try to sound sweet, it's like a fake mask that we all have. But you, you are different.” It made me smile and I can’t even describe how it made me feel.

I have Chinese tattoos on each side of my neck. One side symbolizes “good”, the other symbolizes “evil”. There's a longer “in depth” reason I got those exact tattoos, mainly because everyone has a good side and an evil side, only the strong ones know how to admit that there is an evil side to them.

September of 2002 I decided life wasn't worth living. My boyfriend decided it was over and I couldn't handle the way that everything was, so I cut my wrists. Yeah, it’s a pussy way out, but at that time in my life, death was more enticing then life was. The sad thing about all of that, is, I laughed as I dug the knife into my wrist, and I laughed even more when the blood came out. Now tell me that I don't have problems.

I'm in college now. A double major of Psychology and Sociology. I love to help people since there never was anyone there to help me. Everyone needs to know that there is someone there for them, the sad thing is, a lot of people are too stubborn or careless to worry about others. ( I on the other hand, worry about others before I worry about myself )

Life got better for me because I made it get better. Anyone out there that sits there day in, day out thinking of how bad they want to die, needs to realize that things will change, once you make them.

I was diagnosed bi polar at the age of 13, and diagnosed Schizophrenic at the age 16. I haven't took medicine to help myself get better, I did it all by myself. in my mind. And If I can do it, you can too.
Never listen to others when all they have is negative things to say. Listen deep inside to your wants and needs. You come before anyone else.

My parents make me feel like shit everyday. But at the end of the day when I go to sleep all those problems and worries disappear, because I know that all I have is myself. And it’s all I will ever have. Why worry about the bad shit in life when you can focus on the good and how you can go for your goals.

I wrote this for me. I wrote this for you. I wrote this to let people know that anything is possible.

Description
CUNT:
The Life, Thoughts and Dreams of Kandice Plain
June 2003

I'm Kandice. I’m 19, almost 20. Well, 1 month and I think a week away. I’m too tired to actually think about it and add it up. I like to tell people interesting things about me. It gives them insight into who I am and what I am about. I wrote this without the intentions of submitting it, but I decided to, because it will help people better understand me in ways that I cant normally cant just come right out and say.

I like to lay down in the bathtub and smoke joints. One I'm nice and high, I love to masturbate. Orgasms are always better when your high and something about the texture of my fingers when they’re like prunes, turns me on even more.

After the bath I usually sit in the floor naked and write my poetry. Its the only place I can escape to for peace and quiet, even though I put my headphones on full blast escaping to a violent state of mine where everything is solved through murder and suicide.

Once you have me for a little while, you will have me forever. If you try to run away, I will be right behind you. Its hard to escape me, I'm obsessive compulsive so I’ll never let you go.

I don't just wash my hands once. I scrub them four or five times in a row. Same goes with showers. The reason behind that is because when I was in fourth grade, my speech teacher at school smelled rotten, and from then on, I vowed to stay cleaner then clean.

I remember this time when I was 13 years old. My mom and dad always worked long hours and were barely ever home. So one day, I went into my dad’s room and stole a few of his “Playboy” magazines. Staring at Pamela Anderson on the cover, I was about to open it. Just at that moment, my dad walked in and started screaming at me. “You stupid little fucking CUNT!” Is all my dad seemed to know how to say. Crying, I got up to go to my room, and my dad grabbed me by the hair and slammed my head into the hallway wall.

My ears rang for a day because of him.

I have the worst memory. That's why I take pictures of everyone. (Just in case I forget who they are or what they look like).

Two years ago I was the complete opposite of how I am now. I was hooked on crack-cocaine. I know, such a dirty drug-- but wow, did it give me the best feeling in the world. Pay day at work on February 14th 2001, was the worst day of my life. I got $400.00, and I knew that I had to pay my car insurance with that money, but instead, I went out and bought 20 rocks. I was a crack head. So to fix my bad mistakes, I went and wrote hot checks to pay my bills, just making my life even worse.

I’ll never get another checking account again.

I usually talk really fast, the subject that I talk about changes more often then it was started and I always get left in a drunken state of confusion, unaware of what I was talking about.

I’m afraid of ceiling fans, worms, asphyxiation and getting stabbed in the face. Even though I have no relevant reasons to be afraid of them. I like to question the reason why I'm alive, but never question the reason why I want to die.

Some people say I'm too open about my life, my thoughts, my sexuality, my dreams and aspirations. But really, I think other people are just too closed.

I pull out my eyelashes and make wishes on them, blowing them off my fingers and praying that my wish will come true. My dad told me this morning, “I’m more important to your mother then you are, because I'm married to her, and all you are is her daughter.” I cried later on in the privacy of the bathroom floor. Praying, Hoping and wishing that my life is just a big nightmare and that at any moment I will wake up to a beautiful reality. So far, I’m still dreaming.

C U N T PART 2

I grew up having a perfect life. Nice parents. Great Family. Beautiful Vacations. Lots of Love. But one day it all stopped. Do you know what it feels like to be lied to your whole life? To be told that you were a mistake that an abortion couldn't fix?

When I was 13, the day before Fathers Day I found out that my dad wasn’t my real dad after all. My real father was a low life drug addict in Houston, Texas, (where I was born and raised.) He got my mom pregnant and dumped her when she was 17. My mom met my “new dad” when I was 18 months old and decided that lying to me would be the best way for me to not get hurt by a bastard “sperm donor” ( as I call him) that doesn't care.

My mom and dad now show me how much they care about me by asking me why I didn't just go through with killing myself. My response to that, is “ I like living to torture you.”

I have a phobia of hearing people eat. I eat by myself and will not put myself into a situation where I'm around anyone that's eating. I'm not sure why, and doctors haven't been able to figure it out either. The sound of crunching has just always bugged me to the point where Id rather insert scissors into my ear canal then deal with the horrid sound I hear.

I got a note today from Komacyde, an artist here on deviantART. He said, “When you exchange messages with others and shit, you always try to sound sweet, it's like a fake mask that we all have. But you, you are different.” It made me smile and I can’t even describe how it made me feel.

I have Chinese tattoos on each side of my neck. One side symbolizes “good”, the other symbolizes “evil”. There's a longer “in depth” reason I got those exact tattoos, mainly because everyone has a good side and an evil side, only the strong ones know how to admit that there is an evil side to them.

September of 2002 I decided life wasn't worth living. My boyfriend decided it was over and I couldn't handle the way that everything was, so I cut my wrists. Yeah, it’s a pussy way out, but at that time in my life, death was more enticing then life was. The sad thing about all of that, is, I laughed as I dug the knife into my wrist, and I laughed even more when the blood came out. Now tell me that I don't have problems.

I'm in college now. A double major of Psychology and Sociology. I love to help people since there never was anyone there to help me. Everyone needs to know that there is someone there for them, the sad thing is, a lot of people are too stubborn or careless to worry about others. ( I on the other hand, worry about others before I worry about myself )

Life got better for me because I made it get better. Anyone out there that sits there day in, day out thinking of how bad they want to die, needs to realize that things will change, once you make them.

I was diagnosed bi polar at the age of 13, and diagnosed Schizophrenic at the age 16. I haven't took medicine to help myself get better, I did it all by myself. in my mind. And If I can do it, you can too.
Never listen to others when all they have is negative things to say. Listen deep inside to your wants and needs. You come before anyone else.

My parents make me feel like shit everyday. But at the end of the day when I go to sleep all those problems and worries disappear, because I know that all I have is myself. And it’s all I will ever have. Why worry about the bad shit in life when you can focus on the good and how you can go for your goals.

I wrote this for me. I wrote this for you. I wrote this to let people know that anything is possible.