Girl Afraid

Goodbye

2006-10-19T16:58:00.000-04:00

It's out of my system I think. I ran out of things that I felt I needed to write about at least for the time being. Thanks to everyone who tried to make me feel better and thanks to the people who I talk to in private that made me smile even on the rainiest of days. You're all beautiful people.

I warn People

2006-09-11T22:23:00.000-04:00

I know it's been a long time since I posted and people have probably moved on from checking but I needed to write.

I hurt people....you bitch you're just miserable so you want everyone else to be too! I hate you, you're the lowest form of life on this planet. I heard this last night shouted out in blood and tears. I warned you. I warn everyone who tries to get close to me that I hurt, so I hurt. I don't mean to hurt anyone. It just happens. I have a bad day....a bad day...a bad day...give me space...I'm warning you...I told you not to trust me. Why did you do it?...I told you not to...

I've been hurt over and over again my whole life. I've set myself up for even more situations so that I continue getting hurt and abused. I sleep with a different guy ever guy every week and regret it when I'm done. I like to be hurt? Is it possible that anyone can actually like it? When I cry my eyes out wondering why I did it...why I do it?....why I keep doing it over and over again....yearning for a new hope or dream to find its way down the path of lonliness toward my door to come knocking and take me away....far far away past this misery of distress that I keep reliving day in and day out.

I flash back...abuse....sex...blood...pain...he cut me...did he? sweetie you imagined it....he never touched you...he never hurt you....he did...its all in your head....I't's not...am I dilusional?....you are... Can I have memories that aren't real?...You can....Has talking about them just made them more real?....it has...My mother has twisted reality in my head so much that even my own memories don't make sense anymore. She said I made it all up. I didn't...you did...did not...you need attention then as for it....I am....you're doing it in the wrong way....I'm not. How can she tell me that it never happened? Why do I keep making myself relive it? Why does she keep saying it never happened??? A child from my background could never make those things up. I didn't even know what molestation meants when I was little. I didn't even know because we never heard about it. It wasn't talked about. We weren't told as children not to let anyone touch us there. And if they did we thought WE did something wrong. I did nothing wrong...you did....I didnt....what did I do?....you sat on his lap....I was 6 years old....you shouldnt sit on a mans lap...I didnt know...no one told me....you should've known,...how could I know?....How could I?.....how could you...you shouldn't have made him want you....I was 6....you should've known better...I didnt...you did....please....

My mother called me last week after shabbes and told me to come for my sisters birthday. Do I go? Do I put on pretty clothes and tights and mary janes and a cute blouse with a nice stiff collar and pretend I'm one of the family again? I've had to do it before. I can get the dirty looks from everyone...whispersssss...whispers...there she goessssss....whispers...what's sheeee doing here....I just came to see my sister....whispers...you really think she wantssss you here....yes....whispers...nooo....no one wantssss you here....I was invited....those hissing venemous whispers...go away....you're not welcome.....sobs...I was invited....whispers...Go home...sobs...this is home...whispers....not your home...sighs...it used to b e....chuckles....you gave it all away...tears...I want it back...chuckles...do you....sobs....yes...grunts...too bad...it doesnt want you back.

Thw white picket fence always falls.

I'm ok

2006-07-04T19:53:00.000-04:00

I've been trying to post this for over a week. For all the people worried about me, I'm ok. I got depressed and went away. I'm still away, but I should be back in the next week. Give or take a few days. I can still be reached by email but I have no messenger where I am. So thanks for the emails and comments of concern. I'll be back soon. I'd just love to slander where I am, but chances are the post would be gone lol so I'll save it for when I get back home. Thanks again to everyone. I'll be back and rested soon!!!

2006-06-30T16:44:00.000-04:00

2006-06-08T10:18:00.000-04:00

I tried to sleep as late as I could today since I'm at one of my lows. Yesterday I had a good day most of the day and last night and this morning I've been at my wits end. I sit here now with a tear streaked face and wishing I was buried somewhere intead of typing.

What the fuck am I doing with my life? I can imagine that of course there are people much worse off than I am. But why do I have to be in so much pain? Why was I sitting on the floor in the corner this morning rocking and crying? Why do I still have thoughts of ending my life?

I remember writing before that I didn't blame them for how I am. I remember writing that I didn't think that THEY were the reason I am the way I am now. I changed my mind. I blame those men for taking my innocence and taking away my will to live.

A couple of nights ago I watched a movie called "Girl Interrupted" and this movie brought up a lot of stuff for me that I would've rather kept inside. Kneeling on the floor with that broken mirror under my knees and shards in my hand slicing across my wrists. A child. I was a little girl. I was a little girl. I was a little girl...A little girl but a little girl who had lost her innocence and the will to live. As I sliced across my wirsts feeling the stinging, I couldn't think of why I was in pain. All I could think of was how to end it.

Oh my god mommyyyyyyyyy! She's bleeding! I'm fine, I'm fine.. Get out... Don't tell.. Mommyyyyyyyyyyyy!!! It took her about 10 minutes to get downstairs to see what was wrong. Because I heard her scream from upstais I'll be there in a few! I'm doing something! Thanks mom... Anyway she came down and stood there looking horrified at what she saw and didn't know what to do. Finally she got some towels and wrapped them around my hands but whenever I got the chance I took them off. She didn't call a neighbor for help because no way was anyone going to know her daughter wasn't perfect. She called a car and we were off to the hospital. My cuts weren't all that serious. I was given butterfly stitches on a few of them and then they asked my mother to have me pshychologically evauated. She said no, and that I was fine and we were going home now. They said that she misunderstood. It wasn't a request. Someone came to talk to me to ask me what happened and I refused to talk. I was so blank. They told my mother I was going to be admitted into the adolecent psychiatric ward. She got on the phone immediately and I remember hearing her say, what am I going to tell people...right...ok...that might work...ok....thanks so much...we'll be in touch....click.

and you can tell
from the state of my room
that they let me out too soon
and the pills that i ate
came a couple years too late
and ive got some issues to work through
there i go again
pretending to be you
make-believing
that i have a soul beneath the surface
trying to convince you
it was accidentally on purpose

She signed the papers and told me that she would bring me some of my own clothes in a week. A week??? How long was I going to be there for? The first three days are an observation period and I wasn't allowed out of my room nor was I allowed to wear anything but double hospital gowns, one in frot and one in back. They gave me some hospital pants to go under too. I was medicated which only made me not want to talk more. I think I went those 3 days not saying one single word. It was all surreal. I can still smell the ward.

It didn't take long before I learned the ropes of this place and how it worked. Boys and girls mingled during the day and they were just right down the hall when we slept. It really wasn't so hard to run down the hall and be in their rooms. We had mixed therapy groups and the more I stayed in this place, the less innocent I became. The more I learned about boys and girls and sex and drugs. The more I learned to manipulate to get what I wanted. Get in a bad mood and scream.

Here come the pills. Get in a sad mood and cry. Here come more pills. Sleep. Serene. Escape. Pills...escape....drugs....escape...sleep...pills....Nurse...I need a PRN....Why? I feel anxious....ok....How anxious do you feel? Very...ok. I'll be right back...try to breathe....smile...pills...water...sit back...wait....wait...wait....drowsy....light headed....dreamy....sleep....escape.....pills ...What a way to teach a little girl to deal with pain huh?

and you can tell
by the red in my eyes
and the bruises on my thighs
and the knots in my hair
and the bathtub full of flies
that i'm not right now at all
there i go again
pretending that i'll fall
don't call the doctors
cause they've seen it all before
they'll say just
let
her
crash
and
burn
she'll learn
the attention just encourages her

OK. I think I've written enough for the time being. At least I stopped crying. But I think I want to touch more on my hospital memories in my next post. It seems to be helpful.

2006-06-02T20:42:00.000-04:00

The server I was using for my old template that everyone seemed to love so much is down for some reason. So at least for now this is going to replace it. If I decide to keep it, I have to do some font resizing and I haven't quite figured out how to do that yet. I'll see.

Somewhere over the Rainbow

2006-05-31T10:50:00.000-04:00

Somewhere over the rainbow
Way up high
There's a land that I heard of
Once in a lullaby
Somewhere over the rainbow
Skies are blue
And the dreams that you dare to dream
Really do come true

I've had so much going on for me lately. Since I started writing I've had a flood of new emotion that in some ways makes me feel free and in other it makes me feel a little lost.

Since I started writing about being sexually abused I really realized how sexually premiscuous I am. And it's not only sometimes. It's pretty much all the time. Tell me one reason in the world I should imagine having sex with the check out boy at the grocery, or the guy driving my taxi. Why do I watch porn if it doesn't really do it for me anyway? Why does the thought of being abused turn me on now? Why does being used turn me on?

Sleeping peacefully next to each other after a nice night of making love or so he called it, all of a sudden I feel his hand around my neck from behind me. What the fuck are you doing? Shhh...just relax. No...what the fuck are you doing??? I can feel my panties being pulled off and I struggle a little bit but not much. Turn over... Why? Just do it... NO! As I feel myself being pinned on my stomach and now I'm actually struggling and I'm thinking shit...my boyfriend is going to rape me. I bury my face in the pillow as he finishes taking care of his own business. When he's done I have tear streaked cheeks and mascara under my eyes, and he whispers, I'm sorry...I don't know if I was really mad. Fuck you I said. Get away from me. I turn on my side and lay there crying. Although it wasn't tears of being sad or hurt. It was tears of trying to make him feel sorry for me and hold me. He didn't. He rolled over and was asleep in a matter of minutes. The next day between us it was back to business as usual.

Some day I'll wish upon a star
And wake up where the clouds are far behind me
Where troubles melt like lemondrops
Away above the chimney tops
That's where you'll find me

So can I honestly say I get off on guys treating me like shit? I can honestly say That things aren't always what they seem. Actually probably more often than not, things aren't what they seem. Am I really happy when someone is hurting me? Maybe. Because it seems I hurt myself if I don't have someone hurting me.

Like a lonely little girl, I need attention almost all the time from the people around me. Whether its good attention or bad, I love having it and feeling like someone cares. Sometimes I find myself getting bored with the people that really love me and care about me and I end up hurting them or ignoring them until I need them again. I don't know if my behavior can be called almost sociopathic at times...

I had the idea of writing this post saying I couldn't think of anything to write about, and it ended up being more than I hoped. I want to thank everyone for the emails and instant messages I've gotten since haven't had a chance to answer everyone. And I do understand that it's hard to comment here but emails make me feel just as good as a comment would and I appreciate every single one I've gotten.

I would also like to add to those who've asked, yes, I'm off of all drugs. I drink very seldomly but I never was a big drinker.

Because of you...

2006-05-28T11:31:00.000-04:00

Because of you
I never stray too far from the sidewalk
Because of you
I learned to play on the safe side so I don't get hurt
Because of you
I find it hard to trust not only me, but everyone around me
Because of you
I am afraid

I hate you Daddy...

I hate that you left me and my little sister waiting every Saturday night when you promised you were going to come and pick us up to take us to pizza.

I hate that I loved you so much and expected you to come and rescue me.

I hate that you thought that getting me a pile of birthday presents every year made up for you not giving a shit or being there for you when I needed you.

I loved you so much. Where were you? How could you let these things happen to me time and time again? Where was the protection I deserved?

I sit and remember you putting your fists through walls and Mommy screaming and rushing us into the car and waiting for someone to come and help us. Didn't you love mommy? You were married young...I understand. But why did you have to drink so much Daddy? Why did you marry that other lady and have other kids and forget about me Daddy? I thought that I was your baby.

I think your new wife loved us more than you ever did. She was the one who had us come for weekends. She's the one who bought us new nice clothes and you signed your name. Maybe if you had left the bottle on the shelf you'd at least still have her. Now what do you have? Now you call me drunk on New years saying sorry and you need to see me. Well guess what Daddy...I don't want to see you. I don't want to hear you're dying. I don't want to hear your liver is failing. I don't want to hear it anymore. I've been hearing the same stories since I was just a baby.

Whenever you feel lonely, you come to me and think that I'm just as lonely and I need the attention. Well guess what...I don't need that kind of attention. I'd rather be alone than be left hanging on your empty promises like I have been for so many years.

It's 4am sweetie...He's not coming. Yeah he is! He told me he was! Hon, bracha went to bed hours ago. She knew... What did she know? He promised me! He said he was coming! Leave me alone. I started to cry and she left me sitting there on the sofa holding the same teddy bear I always held while I was waiting for him. I must have fallen asleep....I heard my mother on the phone. Hello? What do you mean "you forgot". Do you know what time it is? Do you know your daughter is still sitting on the couch waiting for you? Vos hos du getracht??? That she doesn't care? Why are you screaming at me when you're the one who didn't show? Have you been drinking?? Sorry..wait..I didn't mean...Hello? Hello? Silence, and then the sound of my mother blowing her nose and silence again for a minute.

I watched you die
I heard you cry every night in your sleep
I was so young
You should have known better than to lean on me
You never thought of anyone else
You just saw your pain
And now I cry in the middle of the night
For the same damn thing!

I closed my eyes and my mother came in and said, are you sleeping? I didn't answer and I wonder if she saw the tears on my face. Maybe she did. Because usually when I fell asleep on the sofa she would carry me to my room. This night she got two blankets and covered me and went to sleep on the other sofa. Maybe she was tired of being alone. But so was I.

Daddy, if one day you read this, I hope it hits you like a smack in the face. I hope you have as much pain as I do. I hope that I remeber not to pick up the phone next time it flashes your name. I hope that the shiny new wife...number 3, sees you for who you really are before it's too late for her and she ends up as messed up as the other 2.

Because of you
I never stray too far from the sidewalk
Because of you
I learned to play on the safe side so I don't get hurt
Because of you
I tried my hardest just to forget everything
Because of you
I don't know how to let anyone else in
Because of you
I'm ashamed of my life
because it's empty
Because of you
I am afraid

I get high with a little help from my friends...

2006-05-26T16:14:00.001-04:00

And the sky was made of amethyst
and all the stars are just like little fish
you should learn when to go
you should learn how to say no

might last a day yeah
mine is forever
might last a day, yeah
mine is forever

when they get what they want, they never want it again...
when they get what they want, they never want it again....

go on, take everything, take everything, i want you to...
go on, take everything, take everything, i want you to....

Since I was little, I've always attached myself to someone who I wanted to get close to. I think I have what I call best friend syndrome.

I'm going to change names for this post, because I loved every single one of these girls that I think helped in their own way to keep me alive.

There was Nancy. Nancy went to school with me when I was still in school. She was an awkward girl, with black hair so curly that she could never do anything with it. She was very overweight and teased about it constantly. She was the only one who ever had lunch with me, and the only one who ever cried with me in the bathroom when we were teased.

Let me wander off into another story for a minute. When I was 14 years old, I was in a parking garage shooting up with two guys. They were gay so at least I didn't have to worry about being taken advantage of. Eric took the first shot. Uh oh...He was turning blue...shit...now what? Fuck! Dude, run out and call an ambulance! Hell no, I know you. If I leave you're gonna take off with the rest of the dope! Come on man, he's not breathing! Fine...hide it behind the tire of that car. We're BOTH going. Hell, no. You stay here. What if the car comes? Touch it and I'll kill you, got it? Got it...

Off he ran. Before he came back, the ambulance was there to get Eric who was completely blue. They saw me and ignored me and asked if I saw how much he took. I said I didn't know the guy. They didn't care about me anyway...They gave him a shot and drove off giving him chest compressions. I looked around and pulled the dope out from behind the wheel of the car and said fuck him. He didn't even come back. Must not have been all the important to him. I drew it up and hit myself in the arm. (that was when my arms still worked) A rush flooded over me so strong that I felt it in my throat and chest, and the next thing I saw was George smacking my face going what the fuck?? You did it all?? Are you fucking crazy?? I couldn't talk. I couldn't move. He ran out of the lot and left me there. I dragged myself on hands and knees to the three stairs that got you out of the lot where I saw someone and I passed out again. Next thing I remember was being walked down the street by two people, I don't remember who. They were moving my feet for me and telling me to stay up. I threw up over and over and I passed out again. Next thing I remember was being in general hospital. I was laying in a bed enclosed by curtains in a row of other beds that were the same. I had overdosed and was proclaimed dead for 4 minutes until the shot they gave me brought me back.

Ok, sorry for drifting into that story but it built up to Nancy. I didn't call my parents...I called her mother. I said I had overdosed on drugs and I wanted to see Nancy. She was my only friend. Her mother said she would bring her to come and see me. Nancy, who I hadn't even talked to for 2 years came in and started crying immediately, and telling me she couldn't be my friend anymore because of what I was doing to myself. I cried for 2 days over her while I sat in the hospital. When they called my parents, only my mother came and she only came to sign papers and say that I had run from a group home and I was no longer in their custody. Nancy if you ever see this I love you.

While I was on the streets, I always had someone attached to my hip. The next one is Alona. Alona was what I called my partner in crime. She and I would make scams like you wouldn't believe. We were young so all we really needed to do was take showers and get dressed and the world was at our fingertips. We would steal and sell cd's which at the time was a great scam. We would go in with safety pins and quickly slice the plastic so we could pull those little white stickers off. We shot up for the first time together and we fought over boyfriend after boyfriend that never gave a shit about either of us anyway. I don't know what ever happened to her...We hung out for a couple years. Her father beat her sensless constantly so she was better off out there with me high and numb anyway. I wonder if she ever got out of the life. I'm tempted to go one day to the neighborhoods I was in so that I can look for any reminence of the children of the streets I knew. They would no longer be children, but I often wonder about who made it out and who didn't.

Wynona and jessica. Wynona sold crack and jessica was a hooker. Actually, come to think of it, they were much better friends to each other that I was to them. But I lived with Wynona for awhile and she was really into smoking what we called primos. It was crack and tobacco mixed together. I never really did like them much but once you smoked one you had to smoke until you had none left. Since she was dealer it got kind of scary at times. I was a heroin junkie and somehow convinced her that heroin was better. She started snorting it and that was the begining of the end for her. She ended up pregnant by some guy and kept doing dope through her whole pregnancy. Her baby somehow slipped through the cracks because it was never discovered and she said the baby had no problems. I remember bringing her a balloon to the hospital so that she had something after she had the baby. One day the police came and raided her place. It was after I had already moved out, and they found a ton of crack. They told her they were going to take her baby if she didn't give a connection. She did, and the connection was busted. Maybe she moved or maybe the connection got to her but I never saw wynona ever again or her baby who was only 3 months old when this happened. As for Jessica, she hooked up with some guy and got on Methadone but continued to use. The last time I saw her I think I was 20. Where did they all end up?

Marina. Marina my love...another child like I was who was lost and came from a family that couldn't care less. She's another one who I loved more than anything in the world. I was willing to die for the girl. Marina died of a heroin overdose in my arms when I was 15 in a bathroom in the holiday Inn. May she rest in peace. Marina...I'm sorry. I'm so so sorry. I never meant to hurt you.

I can't write anymore.

And the sky was all violet I want it again, but more violent, more violent
and i'm the one with no soul
one above and one below

might last a day yeah...
mine is forever
might last a day, yeah...
mine is forever

well they get what they want, they never want it again
well they get what they want, they never want it again

go on, take everything take everything i want you to...
go on, take everything take everything i dare you to....

i told you from the start just how this would end
when i get what i want i never want it again

2006-05-25T12:58:00.000-04:00

And I will awake
Your highness- I'm so high I cannot walk
And I will awake
You cripple, you take away my time, my peace, my empathy
No babies sleep on atrophy
Your unborn love and fetal stress
My bitter candy legless caress

I talked to my mother this morning. She called to ask if I was doing Ok.

I wonder how my mother put up with all the things I did to her and the family.

I ran away at the age of 12. I was tired of being hurt over and over again. I had been put into special schools with kids that were nothing like me. No one understood or understands me. I was nothing like anyone in my family Maybe I just couldn't handle life like they could. I hated private school, and I hated the girls there that were always cliquish. I wasn't one of the "cool" girls and I was teased a lot of the time. My family didn't have a ton of money, so I didn't have the new shiny shoes they did. I sometimes had holes in my tights that were sewn up instead of getting new ones. These things kill in private schools. Everything is appearance, appearance.

My way of escape by the time I was 11 was stealing diet pills from Rite Aid that got feeling all weird. I remember one year on a holiday called purim, my mother asked me to go and deliver some wine bottles to a few people. No one ever noticed that they never got there. I loved any kind of escape I could get my hands on.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*********~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I've been thinking so much about my uncle that used to abuse me when I was little. Not Gordon, but my own family member. How he would take me into the basement and have me pull up my shirt and skirt. Down came my tights and he would touch parts of my body and make me say that names of them. When I said the names I knew for them, he quickly corrected me and told me a vagina was really a cunt. That my chest was really tits. That my bottom was my ass and he would smack it. And people wonder why I'm so fucked up in the head. I never told on him. And technically his abuse went on until I was about 19. When I would drop in for high holidays and eat, he knew what I was doing in the bathroom for so long. Trying to find a vein so I wouldn't have to feel the feelings of dealing with family. The whole family knew I was a junkie. My mother would cry seeing me so skinny and strung out. But she just wanted me to come even if it was only for a few minutes, especially since she knew it would be months before she heard from me again. My next breakdown, or when I was desperate for money. I only went for the food and to try to get anyone there to give me money. Most of them were disgusted by me and would ask my mother why she let me in the house. After I would fix, He would take me down to that same basement he played with me in as a child and fuck me while his wife sat at the table feeding his kids. Funny how god punishes people. He lost both of his legs in an accident and now he can't fuck at all anymore.

My mother always had hope I would change. When I was out on the streets high and calling her in the middle of the night telling her I wanted to come home. A few times they let me back in, and after awhile they got so tired of my shit and me leaving again, that when I would try to come back they sent me to group home after group home, and from hospital to hospital. In these group homes I met kids much worse that I was. And they tought me things I probably never would've learned on my own. I would act up and throw fits in the hospital so that they would medicate me. The only medication I refused to take was the medication that was supposed to help me. They said I probably had some kind of a chemical imbalance and they tried lithium. I refused it but made up stories about hearing voices and seeing things so I could get stronger stuff. When they figured out I was full of shit they just stopped medicating me and would restrain me when I threw fits. Of course there were the ones in the hospitals that were really crazy, and if I played my cards right I could get them to cheek their meds and share with me. Thing is, I'm not crazy. I don't have a chemical imbalance. All I have is emotional scars of life that made me the way I was.

I have no credit. I owe money on things like hospital bills and all the apartments that I couldn't pay the rent or finish up my lease and had to leave. I can't find work because I have no skills. I Never went to high school. I did finish most of the 8th grade. I have no idea how I passed though since I missed most of the last year of it. Maybe my parents paid to have me pass. Who knows.

I often wonder if I was better off as a junkie. A junkie has no real friends but they don't want or need them anyway because it would mean someone to share with.. I was alone, but I didn't feel it. But now I'm alone and feel it. I wonder if being high and concentrating on the next fix is somehow better than sitting here by myself.

Ok. Enough writing for now.

Go for credit in the straight world
Look a dealer in the eye
Go for credit in the real world, won't you try?
I got some credit in the straight world
I lost a leg, I lost an eye
Go for credit in the real world you will die... yeah
It's the credit in the straight world
Leave your money when you die
Lots of credit in the real world gets you high... yeah
I got some credit in the straight world
I lost a leg, I lost an eye
Go for credit in the real world, you will die... yeah

Take good care of my baby...

2006-05-24T10:34:00.000-04:00

Gordon…I can’t say I hate the guy. I sometimes even wonder if he’s a reason I am the way I am. I really do doubt it.

Bracha was looking out the window.

I remember long curtains that reached from the top of the windows in the living room, all the way to the floor. I would sometimes hide in them. When they were open, you could get inside and twist yourself up like a tube. It would pull my hair, which at the time was really long.

Back to Bracha. Nothing to say. .I wonder all the time if he did it to her too.

I don’t really remember how I got into the bathroom. It was the hall bathroom, before the kitchen. Maybe he asked me to come there with him. Maybe I was already in there. Over time I’ve screwed up this memory so much that I only want to say what I remember for sure. I have a few weird memories from that bathroom. "Come here" he says. I want to show you something. I was sitting on the bathroom counter next to the sink. He pulled it out of his pants. I think they were sweatpants, although I can’t remember for sure. Want to touch it? I was curious. I wanted to touch it, and I did. I remember the feeling of the feeling I felt. It wasn’t turned on…I was a little girl, not more than 8 years old. It was all curiosity. I giggled. I touched it lightly with my fingers and moved them a little. I didn’t grab it. I thought it looked disgusting with all the blue lines running up and down and I remember telling him that there were blue lines on it. He asked me if I liked it and I said "I dunno" I liked the attention. I didn’t know it was something so bad. How could I know?

I liked it when boys touched me. At least at 7 and 8 years old I thought I liked it until they started hurting me.

He never did touch me that I can remember. He only made me touch him. I had other people who were touching me…Daniel… I was only in the bathroom with him for a couple of minutes before he told me that I should go out now, and I didn’t want to. But he said I should. I went out and Bracha was sitting staring blankly out the front window. The long curtains were closed and she was peering out of the middle of them. I went up next to her and I said, Bracha, guess what? He showed me his thing. She gave me a “whatever” look and went back to staring blankly out the front window.

I can imagine doing that. She was the quiet type who held things in. I was the hyper one. I wondered a lot of the time what was going through her head when she came home and played the same chords over and over again on her violin in her room

How do men know which child? I mean, how did he know I had already been abused? How did he know I wasn’t going to tell? It’s like these men have sixth sense of which little girls to go after. Because in my life it happened over and over until I started abusing myself sexually with whatever moved.

About this man…

When I was 11 years old, I was hospitalized in a psychiatric ward for slashing my wrists with a broken mirror. This was one of many many hospital stays. When I was asked by them if I had ever been abused, I remember holding my breath and saying yes. I told them what he did. I was feeling so relieved I had finally told someone. A reliefe that only lasted until I was interrogated. Since I was a little girl when it happened, and I couldn’t remember exact times and dates nothing happened with it. My mother never believed me. Nothing happened to that man. Nothing at all. My mother is still friends with him to this day, and to this day my mother still tells me to stop making up lies and stories about him.

And if you should discover...that you don't really love her...please send my baby, back home...to....me.....

Is love all you really need?

2006-05-24T02:26:00.000-04:00

Love is…all around you…ohhhh…love is knockin’, outside your door…

Waiting for you. Is this love made just for two…

Keep an open heart and you’ll find love again I know.

How many men have I been with?

How many men have I said I love you to?

You know…I really lost count. There were the special ones. The ones that lasted a long time. My first infatuation and the first guy I had sex with was jayme. I was 12 years old and I thought this guy was the shit. I carved his initials in my hand and ankle. My best friend at the time Sandra was in love with his friend Jason. Jason was a fucking asshole and treated her like shit. Jayme did the same to me. But at least Jason at least gave her the impression that he liked her. Even if he only came around every few weeks to fuck her in jaymes tree house…

Coco. The big black asshole that I thought was fucking disgusting. The things you do for men that you think you love. Jayme was only like 15 or 16, but since I was 12, he was like a God to me. One day he asked me so nicely if I would fuck coco. And I was like no…no…I really don’t want to. But he said some on…for me? Fucking asshole. I should go back there and find him and tell him how losers like him messed my life up. In the tree house as I was on my back with this big black mother fucker pounding me and I was crying. Sandra was laying next to me…I watched as Jason flipped her over and was fucking her doggy style. Tears streamed down my face and I never really understood how he could keep fucking me. Finally he was like Jayme make this bitch stop crying…I can’t finish like this. And I said I'm sorry..I’m sorry…And He said come on man, bring me some lotion. So everyone said he was called coco because he jacked off all the time with coco butter. I can see Jayme clearly in my mind watching all of us. Yeah…the things you do for the boys that you think you love.

So who was next? Who did I think I loved next and got infatuated? Hmm…The next one I remember was simon. Of course there were a few smaller guys along the way that I slept with. I think I slept with chico before simon. Simon and I lived in a crappy smelly basement, where we had to pee down a hole in the middle because there was no bathroom. We’d get high and fuck and sleep and then go hang back in the "barrio". Chico was only my boyfriend for a short time. I can’t really remember now why Simon and I broke up. But I still have his name tattooed on my arm. For some reason…he’s the only guy that earned it and the only guy who begged me not to do it. And yes...I regret it.

Chino. Chino was my boyfriend for a few years. I remember I was so strung out on dope. At the time I don’t remember where I was living…if I was living anywhere. I remember I walked down the block one day and there he was around a corner. I was so dope sick…I was always so dope sick. Wow, how fast I drift off into other topics. Anyway, I saw him there and I said hey…can you do me a favor? And he was like what is it? And I said can you front me a few and I’ll pay you back later? So he didn’t even seem reluctant. He gave me a few and I batted my eyes a little and I was on my way home to fix…wherever home was. Oh I remember who my boyfriend was at the time. Actually could be a few different guys…I think it was what’s his name that I lived on 18^th ave with. Lol they also called him chino. But I was already cheating on him with David. David was another 16^th st dealer who used to give me dope for a few. Lucky me he was married and I didn’t actually have to spend any time with him. I don’t think I slept with him too many times. But I did lie and tell him that I had his baby. Not like he gave a shit anyway or anything. Anyway…chino and I started seeing a little more of each other which led to us staying in a hotel together…which led to us moving away together. I never cheated on Chino. Chino was the big Mafioso type that would’ve seriously killed me or any guy I cheated with. That man loved me…he loved me so much that he never let me leave my room. He left me in there rotting and doing all the dope I could ever want (and more). I was wasting away. I was skin and bones. The man sold kilos of coke and heroin. I lived in a different city with him and his brother, and a few other runners that he had working for him. I remember one night some guys came in with guns to our place and tried to rob us. They taped my mouth and hands and it was so scary. I guess it's a good thing I was always high and it I was numbed to so many of the things that happened to me at those times. Just like the times that the narcs raided our house and I was left high and dry…his brother came and took all the money that was left in the house. The police didn’t take me in. They knew I was strung out and hopeless. He ended up in federal prison, and I ended up with one of the biggest habits a girl could ever have. I remember being in the hospital for severe abscesses on my arms and legs and the doctor warning me that if I didn’t stop that I would be dead in a month, if that. I didn’t stop then. I was unstoppable. When chino landed in prison, the lady who was staying at our house…the cleaning lady…is the one he left in charge and made his woman. Guess he didn’t love me so much afterall huh. So much for 4 years of my life that he helped to destroy. The things we do for love…love…love…

After chino I went on binges. From binge to hospital, from hospital to homeless. Staying up all night turning tricks on capp st. Now there is nothing worse than being called Capp St. whore. If you were called that, it mean you had hit the bottom and below. Funny thing is..I never looked like I belonged there.. I still had normal guys after me, but there was no way I could take on any kind of normal relationship strung out and scarred up under that mini skirt. Most of the women on that street were old and crack heads. I was young. I looked 13 at my wieght too. I must’ve weighed 80 pounds…easy. I went one night to a bar. I just wanted to get off the streets for a few and I knew guys who went in there so I figured I would drop in and flirt or something. And there I met the next “love”.

Can’t be much of a love because as of this moment I sure can’t remember his name. I’m sure it’ll come to me. I told him I had nowhere to sleep that night and he said I could crash at his place for as long as I wanted. I bet he regretted saying that really fast lol. We were together for quite awhile. I think the only reason he stayed with me was because I let him fuck me in every hole he could imagine. And I pretended I liked it. I really had no sex drive because of all the drugs I was doing. I would steal money from his wallet while he was sleeping. He started hiding it under his pillow.

In this time I lived around the corner from a market. I would go in there all the time. There was a guy in there who worked late nights. So this guy used to always flirt with me and stuff. Things with what’s his face were ending and I knew it. One night we fought. And when I say fought I mean really physical. He punched me…choked me. And trust me I sure did punch the guy back, but I was so damn tiny that it did little to nothing.. (Funny, I skipped how much Chino used to beat my ass.) This guy never laid a hand on me to hurt me until that night, but Chino got his kicks out of beating the shit out of me.

One night Chino put a gun in my mouth and had me get on my knees as I cried. Ok, I drifted off again... Where was I? Oh…So me and what’s his face got in the fight and I went to (him shall who remain unnamed's) store. He told me I could come home with him. I was seriously reluctant. I was totally not attracted to him at all. But I thought…the guy has money, I might as well take advantage while I can. Funny enough…this is the man who saved my life.

I can’t say I love him. I can’t say I ever loved him. But what I can say is that this man took care of me like no man ever did. He hated to see me on drugs. He took me to the methadone clinic and got me clean. Ok, getting clean took over a year, but I did do it. I started practicing his religion, which I thought was such a beautiful thing at the time, but I realize that the only reason I did it, was for him and then for the friends I had made. I was born jewish and I have the bitchy mother to back it up, but I hated beging from a religious jewish family. Where were they anyway?

It seems to me that’s the only reason I do anything in this life. Not to be lonely. And this man... is the man I married. He is the man who never asked for anything in return but being faithful and a good wife. Strange…it’s something I could totally do now. I’ve grown up so much. I never once cheated on that man. I was home most of the time. I watched tv, I cooked. We had moved to a great apartment and I had anything I ever wanted. He started messing up. He started going to clubs with friends. We decided to make a huge move to be near his sister and her husband. I think that was the biggest mistake of our relationship. As soon as we moved there we bought a new computer and I discovered a new world online.. He would be gone at work leaving me alone where I knew no one I had nothing to do but look at the tv or sit on the computer.

I got bored with the tv but the computer had endless things to do. I found another world. A world to escape into. I found different types of people. There were people from all over the world just dying to give me attention. At first when I started coming online, I was really honest. I told people I was married, and that I was a bored alone housewife. But as time slowly went on, I became really addicted to lies and deception since none of it was real to me.. I went in day in and day out. I started chatting even when my husband was home, which btw wasn't all that often.. He hated it and I know why he did. I wasn’t trying to meet anyone or give any real info. He also had a chat addiction. He would sit at the computer until the sun came up chatting with god knows who. The thing is…when he was home he had me. When I was home, most of the the time it was alone.

He had some court things to do where he had moved from and he went alone. I have to admit, I was exited for him to leave so that I could spend more time online. While he was there he messed up just as bad. He decided to run off and get high with my best friends husband (who called me and told me what was going on) and stay there a week longer than he planned. While fucking prostitutes and smoking crack, he made up a stupid lie that he got in a car crash and blah blah. When he got home, I told him I had had it. I told him after some yelling, and screaming, and almost stabbing him that I wanted a divorce. He left me. He left me in a strange town where I knew no one but his sister. WHo of course didn't take my side, even though I did everything that he wanted. I had his food ready when he came from work. I had his clothes washed and his house cleaned. He's gone. I've been alone for 2 years now getting by without him and surviving. I'm still clean. I have so much more to say but I'm going to pull this up and write more tomorrow. Its late.