<center>![Stress Lines](http://i.imgur.com/scSKtSv.jpg)</center>
<center>@nonameslefttouse The Writer Himself reporting</center>

<center>LIVE!</center>
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<center>***I'll start out by being honest and letting everyone know the truth.***</center>

<center>I Hear Fucking Noises</center>
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Today, I'm sitting in a nice peaceful area of time and space.  There's no way those fucking noises will bother me here.  This makes me happy.  So many times in my life that fucking noise would disrupt my normally focused mental state.  I'm one of those people who simply cannot stand being interrupted by unexpected fucking noises, yet these fucking noises have followed me around my entire life.  I just can't seem to escape this constant onslaught of fucking noise.

The fucking noises started when I was young.  I wasn't quite sure what to make of these fucking noises at first.  The fucking noises seemed like something straight out of the *Twilight Zone*.  I'd wake up in the middle night with a sudden urge to take a piss.  I'd get halfway to the bathroom and be stopped in my tracks.  

What the hell is that fucking noise?  
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It scared the shit out of me to the point where I'd just crawl back into bed and hope I didn't wake up in my own homemade kiddie pool.

Those fucking noises haunted me for many years.  I looked forward to the day when I could finally move out of that possessed household and into my own.  A few friends finally came to the rescue when I was eighteen years old and they helped me pack up my things and unpack them into our new home.

It was a nice new home with residences on the other sides of the walls.  We all did our best to keep our music and partying down to a reasonable level and always made sure to respect our new neighbors best interests.  

Two days and only one hangover later was all it took.  The fucking noises were back.  This time the fucking noises were coming from all directions.  Through the walls, down the halls, from under the cracks and straight into my *trying to concentrate* ears.  Still, I could never pinpoint the source of these fucking noises and would fear getting close enough to investigate.  The fucking noises again began to drive me *batshit crazy*.  I had to get out there and find my own place.

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It was a small third floor corner suite apartment.  I loved it.  It was well lit during the day and the south wind would get sucked in through one window and pushed out the other.  The place was fresh.  A little too close to the train tracks though, but I didn't mind, they said I'd get used to it.  I never did.  

The train would come along and honk it's horn as a friendly way to say, "Hello, I'm coming over for coffee."

My plates would shake, the wall paint would flake.  My solution was easy.  Alcohol and music, both at equally excessive levels.  To be honest though, all of this abundance of drinks, tunes and trains was far greater than any of those fucking noise experiences I had been dealing with throughout my past.  I started to settle in to a normal life.

Things were getting better.  I had the luxury of meeting a few nice ladies.  My floor was full of beautiful women.  Always coming and going and majority of them were single.  I decided this place was for me.  That is, until, those fucking noises started all over again.

I had plenty of time of my hands and was fueled into a drunken frenzy.  I had enough liquid confidence flowing through my veins and this helped me finally decide to investigate.  I bought twelve cases of beer, seventeen bags of chips, three packages of hot dogs, four loaves of bread and one thing of mustard.  I was set.

I closed all the blinds, kept the lights off during the night.  I sat in silence, waiting, listening for anything out of the ordinary, looking for patterns.  I was awake for thirty eight hours straight when I was finally rewarded with my first clue.

First I would hear bass, then the gentle sound of tires spreading small stones about the partially paved parking lot.  This was followed by a brief moment of silence, then I would hear a car door close.  From there I would hear an apartment buzzer off in the distance, very faint but still noticeable.  Footsteps would follow and the sound would get closer.  Somebody, was walking up the the stairs.  I'd hear another door close, down the hall somewhere, not too far away.  Then, silence.  

Minutes later.

Those fucking noises would begin again!
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These fucking noises would last two to seven minutes, tops.  I observed this same pattern every day until I ran out of supplies.  After being awake and drunk for that many days straight I decided to confront my demons head on, but first I needed to get dressed and buy more beer.

I was in the bathroom, getting ready, when the fucking noises caught me off guard.  I flipped out, left my apartment and headed down the hall.  I was getting closer, I brought a glass along to place on the doors so I would be able to hone in on the definitive source.  I did not have to go far, it was the first door next to mine.  I could hear the fucking noises without my glass but I used it anyway to be sure.  This *was* the place.

I knocked and rang and knocked and rang and banged and yelled and kicked and screamed until someone came to the door.  After a few minutes of chaos, two scantily clad members of this residence finally opened the door.  They did not look impressed.  I asked them if they heard any unusual noises coming from inside their apartment.  I began to impersonate the sound to the best of my abilities.  They looked at me as if I was a crazy person.

The man, wearing only a towel with a strange bulge protruding from the center region, began to push me around.  As someone who watches mixed martial arts quite often on television, I knew exactly what to do.  When I was on my back getting pummeled, I made sure to roll side to side and keep my elbows up around my face.  I'm sure this protected me from receiving a harsher beating than necessary.  The woman, who played the role of referee finally managed to pull the victor away from me.  

She did not raise his arm so I still consider myself 0-8 instead of 0-9.

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After Jail Came Counseling
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Today was my final session on the doctors couch.  She had become very frustrated with me and said it was time I either went to a home or found a new doctor.  

I said, "Listen, lady.  I just want to know if I'm crazy or if I truly do hear murderous screams and panting dogs every few days and I'm wondering if that's normal or not!"

She said, "They were fucking, you idiot.  Those were *fucking noises* you heard!"  

The door was then slammed in my face and I felt a cool sensation come over me like wind on a sunny spring morning.  I felt free and unshackled.  I finally know what these fucking noises were and what these fucking noises are called.  

I just hope some day I can learn what fucking is.  That is my next mission in life.  There are still so many questions and I need to get to the bottom of this.  I thank you for your time today and appreciate you listening to my story.

<center>*@nonameslefttouse The Writer Himself, signing off.*</center>
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<center>*Today's cover is titled **Stress Lines** and was produced by me just the other day.*</center>

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