letter # 1 - 2

note : this guy i met back in 7th grade after the columbine shooting and some stupid preppie bitch made up some story about me threatening to kill her and told it to our counselor, who told my mom, and she in turn told my shrink. and during these couple weeks after the shooting my shrink was just sending every single patient he had that had some story like this going around school or had made some threat, no matter how minor, to the "special floor" of the hospital for a week or two, to protect his own ass. this matt guy was there for telling some girl that he was going to cut her into little pieces. and he for some reason took a liking to me, and after we were released he called every 'johnson' in the phone book from my town (and there are quite a few) to find my number. and from the phone book he got my address. and started calling me every day until he got sent to a youth center for stealing stuff or something. there he didn't have the priviledge of calling me so he started writing me, every day. eventually after i stopped writing him (i only wrote him two letters, both over 2 and a half years ago) he slowed down the flow of letters a bit. in one letter he decided he was a born-again baptist, after every letter before that one had been full of pentigrams and speak of worshipping satan. and he tried to 'save my soul' and convert me to the baptist religion. he still writes me every month or two. the following is his latest letter, received march 28th, 2002. when we get our scanner hooked up again i'll add a pic of himself in all his gothness from a couple years ago and maybe a couple of his drawings.

page one :
this page consisted of some weird wannabe anime drawing of a girl, and above it was written : Lady Rebbecca (there is only one B in my name, and after 3 years he still hasn't learned?), De La Salle.

page two :
some pseudo-goth poem titled, "END of DAYS" :

darkness, loves hate, from it i can't exape. now death comes knocking, secretly stalking.
one downward spiral, toward satan's bial. we do not know, what next he will throw,
death reigns high, for we all must die. at us for his fun, to make us flea and run.
it just depends, on the way it ends. deny me not, for i am he, i am the one, your destiny.
one final plea, to satan to set you free; so now our story ends, and another will soon begin.
from this horrid end so we can again begin. so long farewell, if there is such a place, i'll see you in HELL.


pages three - six :
beck,
sup "B." how ya doin in gay-lil (insert town name), ia. once again i am one of the last goths in north iowa that i know of, now that a lil-poseur-girl named Rebecca turned tail oin the face of adversity and ran her cute little ass away of what she is and always will be, no matter what she says. but other than that i'm ok, i am staying at FLYS youth shelter till saturday, but by the time you write back, i'll be home again, so just write me back at:
matthew torkelson
(insert address)
(insert town), ia 50473

so, please write me back this time, cuz no matterhow many times you break my heart, i will still love you for beyond both of our lives.

oh yeah, most importantly returned to the status of "christian goth," if you dont like me because i'm christian thats fine but i will still love you and write you for the rest of my life and beyond.

if you are not sure whether you will go to heaven or hell when you die, i can help you to know for sure that you will go to heaven and be held in god's loving hands, and you will feel a greater "high" than you ever will with any other guy or drug or anything else for that matter.

this time i am willingly in Francis Lauer Youth Shelter, because the only reason i am is that my parents are going on vacation, and they dont trust me at home alone, so they put me in here, in shelter. it should be a fun and worthwhile experience in the "P.S." at the end of the letter i will write my phone # here, and i will tell you right now that my home # is (insert home phone number), and you can call me there any time after 4 in the evening to 7 in the morning on weekdays, and on the weekend any time you want, starting saturday evening.

i am in a thing called "quiet hour" right now, and that is how i am having this much free time to write you, but it is getting boring, so that is why i started writing you in the first place.

i am now 16 as you probably guessed, and i do not have my license yet which royally sucks major ass, but if my mom lets me i will get it soon, so maybe when one of us gets our license (i already have mine, but he doesn't know), that one could drive and pick up the other and we could hang out, not on a date (if you dont want it to be a date, but if you do, thats fine with me). cause i really do love you, and i want to hang out with you because you still are my best friend.

so, when you write back tell me about your new self, how things are doin with you, how you look, and, if your still into it, write a quick poem for me, then i can put it in my scrap book with your other poem, my poems, internet poems, and other stuff.

well i guess thats all that i can think of for now, so i'll continue writing you, even if you refuse to write me, i do care deeply.

deepest love
and darkest wishes
your best friend & love,
matthew torkelson

p.s. that # is :
FLYS youth shelter:
641 - 421 - (and he didn't finish the rest. idiot.)

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