May 25th, 2008

me with graffiti

CHAPTER 1- Birth and GIRL Camp

waaaaaaaaaah! waaaah!
newborn baby enters the world in fear.
It's a birl!
a what?
a girl.
she has slight jaundice,
we'll bring her right back.
this is normal.
snip snip.
(no one will know the difference.)
Welcome to the world.
Dr. Dowd delivered you and his wife will be your pediatrition until you are too old to even be seeing a pediatrition....
welcome to the world, freak-

Can i ask you something Mama?
i'm afraid
you don't have to be afraid
well, why don't i have a penis like daddy?
Because you are a girl, like me.
but i don't have boobs like you.
Well, you are only four.
four and a half
Ok, four and a half.
So what?
why don't i have a penis?
Only boys have penises and you are a girl.
There is no why. You just are.
well, why do i have to play with the girls at school?
Don't you want friends?
i already have boy friends. why can't i just play with them at school?
Because your teacher, as well as your father and i, think you need to learn how to act like a young lady.
Because it is not okay for a little girl to gross out other little girls by eating worms, and i is certainly not okay for you to throw sand in a girls eyes! WHY DID YOU DO THAT?
Go to your room!
For yelling at me like that! GO NOW!
i hate you
But i didn't really hate her. I hated her for leaving me at a time of need. She was pregnant with my sister Lisa, and when i was 2 1/2, my mom went into labor and left me to the care of my Godmother for a day or so... i don't remember how long it was, but it was the beginning of my war. Auntie Sue was supposed to potty train me and teach me how to be a good older sister and strong for my family. She took me to Connetucut. When i arrived there, it was as if an army had arrived just for me. There were tons of other little girls and boys my age. Many of them were poor, minorities and none of us really understood why we were there.
Auntie Sue said we were going to see the GodParents.
"I thought you were my Godmother, Auntie Sue", i said
YES, but these are THE GODPARENTS. They will teach you how to be a princess.
A PRINCESS? wow. That sounded cool.... until Princess Army train ing begain.

The Godmother, Employed by the Catholic church, was to teach all of the young ladies how to be young ladies, how to please men and how to torture them if need be.
We were being potty trained at the same time. The Godmother, like in paintings throughout history, was a naked woman, who let us climb all over her and touch her and know what boobs and vaginas were all about. I was a beautiful little "girl" and the Godmother told me she thought i would be a princess some day. I began to love the Godmother. My own mother was away, and she was the closest thing i had. She held me, more than the other girls and she told me she would teach me to be a princess like her.

I was not sure i really wanted to be like her, because although she was so overly loving to me, she was very very mean to the other little girls. She told them that they only wished that they could be as great as me. She laughed at them and humiliated them. All the other girls grew to hate me as well.
The Godmother sang us nursery rhymes all day, brainwashing us, while giving us all training on how to be propper young ladies.
There was a problem that arrised early for me, and that was that i didn't want to be trained to be a young lady, i wanted to go home and see my new sister, or at least be able to play with my friends the way we used to. There was nothing playful about this camp in Connetucut. We were not allowed to step out of line. If we were, we were beaten. The Godmother said that i would be beaten a lot less if i could learn to be like her and beat the other girls. She showed me a gold diamond ring... the one my Godmother gave me at birth. "This is your princess ring" she said. "If you want to be princess and win this ring and go home and see your family, you need to do what i tell you to do."
So i listened. I screamed at alkl the other little girls. Most of them were black girls. The Godmother called us "blackies" and "whities". Most of the girls i tortured into going home were "blackies." I had to torture them worst. They were told that they would never be any good, and that the only good man out there for them, the PRINCE, was going to marry me.

NEXT CHAPTER- mixing with the boys camp....
me with graffiti


The boys who survived the camp were mostly the whities. They were being trained by the Godfather, a large Haitain man named Mamady, to be soldiers. I am not positive what went on at boy camp before we were mixed together, but i think it was a similar situation. The boys got to climb on Mamady's naked large body and see what a real man was. Like i said, they were all "whities" except for one, the Handsome prince. The Godfather kept telling him how beautiful and cool he was, and that if the Prince trained right, he would get to marry the princess. The prince was a beautiful little black boy. He was a gentleman. He was trained to be kind to woman and make them feel special, and he was told that sex was the way to make a girl feel better. "All scared little girls want to touch your penis. You know you feel so much better when you touch my penis" Mamady would tell the Prince, to try to raise his self esteem.

When they introduced the girl camp to the boy camp, there was a difference between what we were trained to do. All the white boys were taught by the Godfather to be tough, to fight only if they needed to. They were militarily trained to be able to stare into the eyes of the other soldiers without breaking down crying, without having to use their diapers. The boys who could not train fast enough were kicked out of camp. They were no good to the war. The boys who could stay were heroes. Most of them grew up to be real heroes, cops and army workers. The boys who were kicked out of camp were left ashamed. Many of them were black, and were told they would never be as good as the prince, and the white boys who were sent home also were told they would never be as good as the prince. They failed the potty training camp and as far as they were concerned, they would never be good at anything. Most of these boys became addicted to drugs by young ages or created or joined gangs to feel safe from the gang created by the Catholic Church.

The black girls went through the same thing. If they could not train fast enough, they were sent home and told they failed... and the prince and i i were supposed to tell them that they were no good and had to go.

At first, when i was trying to piece together this puzzle in my head, i thought Mamady was the bad guy, i mean, after all, he was the GODFATHER. But the truth is, Mamady trained the soldiers to be good men. The prince and i were brought together to tell the failures to go home. We were friends, and neither of us really liked doing what we were told to do, but we were repeatedly told that if we didn't do what we were told, we would not go home. We HAD to fullfill our mission.

The army boys were trained to be heroes, The Godmother taught the women to be weak. Being weak was what it meant to be a proper young lady. I was the only girl who was allowed to be tough and torture and humiliate. I was the only girl with the military training that the hero side was given. That is how i was able to figure this all out. That, and the help of triggers going off my entire life.

I did make one friend besides the prince. There was a girl named Aisha who was tougher than all the other little girls. She got to stay longer and we became friends. I got to be friends with Aisha, the prince, the godparents and the heroes.

I was so happy when i got to go home. I tried to tell my mother what happened to me at camp, but she was busy with a brand new baby, my sister Lisa, and she did not have time to listen to my crazy imaginative stories of what went on at potty training camp. I begged for her to listen, but she was busy with a brand new baby. She dismissed what i was telling her as being make believe, wild immagination, and from that point on, until just recently, i thought my mother was a liar and i had a very large grudge against her for not believing in me. She couldn't believe me. That was not her fault. She had to think it was a lie. She thought i was a sick minded person, talking about torturing kids like that. She didnt know it was true.
me with graffiti


By the time i was six or seven, i learned to at least to pretend to accept the fact that i was going to have to be a girl. But i was still convinced that my parents were wrong, and that i would grow a penis someday.
The summer i turned 8, something else grew there instead, my first pubic hair and then like magic, my boobs began to sprout.
But by magic, i mean dark evil magic. I was convinced that God was trying to punish me for being such a BAD BAD GIRL. and i really was a BAD girl. I ask my male friends, how good of a girl could YOU have been?

But now i was being punished. Everyone always told me what a bad bad girl i was, and now i was being punished by having to be a woman when i was never a girl.. or a boy, i was a body with a soul inside it, and clearly my soul was bad.

When third grade began, i was reminded daily of how bad of a girl i was. My teacher that year was a sociopath with tenyear. Every year, she would look for the most vulnerable kid in the classroom, and when she found them, she treated them so badly, that at least 4 of us that i am now aware of, have been in patient in psychiatric hospitals. And it is no coincidence that we all had her for 3rd grade. None of us were the same age, because she would only torture 1 student a year, making it so that it could never be more than our "crazy" word against her professional one. Even with my parents.
I told them my teacher was humiliating me every day, and calling me stupid and bad and unworthy. She even called me homely. She would tell the other kids how stupid i am, and she let them laugh at me. In fact, she loved it when the classroom would laugh at me.

I did well enough on my tests and homework that she could not have failed me in most subjects without my parents knowing she was a liar. But i recieved an F+ in handwriting, because i did not write as neatly as the other girls. Boys with handwriting 10x worse than mine recieved better grades. Only one other girl had handwriting as messy as mine, and hers was the worst i've still ever seen, but she got a C- because she was a lefty. I also got poor effort and conduct marks, but i tried hard and i behaved well.
I told my parents that the grades she had given me were unfair. I told them how mean she was. How she would dump my messy desk out in front of the class and make me clean it while they all went out for recess, and how when i was reading out loud and i started to stutter, she made fun of my stutter and said "let's have someone read who actually knows how." "You are wasting my valuable time." "you are a bad girl" "You will never succeed" "Nice turtle neck. i can see your training bra through it".
I cried every morning and begged them not to send me to school, but i had to go.
When my mother found a packed suitcase under my bed, she asked me why it was there. I lied to her, but she found out from my sister that i was planning to run away. We had a huge fight. It turned physical and the next day she told me "Fine, i will talk to your teacher. Dad and i will make a meeting to find out what is going on at school that is so terrible that you want to run away from home."

So, she and my father made an appointment to speak with my teacher.
They came home from the appointment telling me that my teacher really really liked me, and that she just felt i needed to make more of an effort. She said i was always looking out the window and never paying attention. She said she only dumped my desk once, and it was an accident, but that after she saw what a mess it was, she thought it was more important that i clean it than go out to play that day. She said i must have an active imagination to think she was calling me stupid or ugly, and she only mentioned my bra showing cuz she thought i might want to put on a sweater so no one would make fun of me.
She told me my bra was showing in front of the class, from the front of the class. She lied to my parents about everything, and my parents told me that they were disappointed in me for lying to them or exaggerating, because clearly this was a nice woman who really cared about me. This woman would never do the things i told them she did. I was wrong. I was a liar, and i was no longer allowed to come home in tears telling lies about my teacher. If i did, i was told to go to my room and deal with it.
I was still a BAD girl as far as anyone was concerned and i was punished many times throughout the year by my parents for what had happened to me at school. Because my version was a lie.
But it wasn't a lie. And no one believed me, and i was growing boobs and hair on my thing where my penis was supposed to grow and WHAT THE FUCK DO I DO? How do i handle my life?

I kept the suitcase in my closet under a pile of clothes or stuffed animals. My mother would find it every now and then and each time, she would go crazy on me for it. WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOUR BRAIN? people would ask me all the time...

what is wrong with my brain? what is wrong with my body???
nothing was right. it was all wrong, and no one could see it but me.
me with graffiti



so now i'm 12 years old. i have a size DD boobs and every boy wants a piece of me. Trouble is, i'm in love with my best friend Amy. i love women because i see that they need a hero. These tortured young girls, and Amy was a daughter of a Shriner... a gang of its own. We were supposed to go to the Shriners rodeo together to help her father sell beverages out of the beverage cart. We were not going to be paid, but it was exciting to have a job at only 12 years old, and we were told we could go to the after party afterwards and meet Rodeo Romeo and all the other Shriners. It was so exciting. We worked all night and flirted with the Italian boys who were there. They told us we were hot and asked us if we wanted to work for some real money. They said if we gave a few blow jobs throughout the night, we would be paid large amounts of money--- thousands of dollars, and they would buy us alcohol and drugs like the adults had in the adult room. We were in the kids room. Every time Amy and i gave a blow job, Rodeo Romeo (this charming 17 year old pimp), we were brought alcohol and drugs and money. We became drunker and higher and richer as the night went on. There were literally thousands of dollars in front of us. We had never seen money and fame like that.

Oh yeah, in the room, before we became whores for the Shriner gang, the mafia boys there (CJ and Cappy) told us they thought we were lesbians. They also kept saying how EASY Catholic girls were. I said that most Catholic girls i knew were too afraid to be badass like Amy and i. They asked me if i had a Godmother. I said, "yeah, all Catholics have godparents" True, they told me, but NOT all Catholic girls got diamond rings from their Godmother. I asked them how they knew i had a ring or why it made any difference. They said they just knew, and the ring made a BIG difference.
Amy and i did not want anyone thinking we were dykes, cuz the truth was, we were in love with eachother. She was a year older than me and had a twin sister, but her sister was not as Voluptuous as Amy and i. She still looked too much like a little girl. I always wanted a twin... a soul mate, someone who could see that i was not the evil little kid that everyone made me out to be. But when the gang came to us to propose our becoming whores for them, they explained to us that sex was nothing to be ashamed of. Sex was power. We would have poer over the men, taking their money all over a little blow job.

We listened to 94.5 WZOU (now known as Jammin 94.5) all night in the kids room as the adults partied with eachother. We partied and flirted and made some whore money. We listened to NWA's album Niggaz4Life, where were were instructed on how exactly to give a proper blow job.
What about my braces?
Be careful, you dont wanna get their hair caught in there.
Amy and i thought we were the coolest girls on the planet. We were raking in money and the STAR of the Rodeo as the one paying us and making us feel so good.

Then, suddenly, it was the next day.
"We must have been so drunk" we said to eachother with smiles on our faces, even though we woke up in a barn stable dirty, sore and covered in horse shit"
"oh my GOD! it must have been a crazy night"
Didn't we make some money or something?
"I think so, lets go look for it"
We managed to pick our sore beaten bodies up off the floor of the stable. This was the cost of fame and fun, and we were willing to endure it. Although how did we end up in the dirt in a stable? We could not remember.
We found our ways back into the Shriner Auditorium, but everyone was gone. The Rodeo had moved on, and the party was long over. Amy's parent's were worried sick about us and asked us what happened. We of course lied to them, like any 12/13 year old would do, and while we helped her parents clean up the auditorium after the party, we felt empty, like something was missing.
"Maybe we spent all the money" one of us said, and we needed to believe it. The Cappy boys told us we did spend it all on drugs and that if there was any left, that we would never see it again.

Amy and i decided to go into the whoring buisness after that. We knew it paid well and we had a lot of fun parting like adults. We promised we would save up our whore money after that, instead of spending it all on drugs, but as our friendship continud, and our whore buisness as well, i could not stop myself from buying more drugs and alcohol with the money made. I was ashamed to be a whore. Even though i pretended to love it, part of me in the back of my mind remembered what happened that night after all the fun. We were gang raped and humiliated, thrown in the barn and had all of our money stolen. It made us both very ashamed for a long time.

Amy and i watched the movie Pretty Woman every chance we could, dreaming of meeting someone who would treat us with respect and love. It was all we wanted.

After the gang rape at the rodeo, everyone at school started calling Amy and i whores. We were like "yeah, we're whores and proud of it, bitches"
and the black girls at school, the metco kids, began to threaten me every day. "WHY WOULD YOU EVER BE PROUD TO BE A WHORE" they asked me. They made me feel ashamed of being a whore, and everyone who called us names became our enemies. We were going to fight the haters together. We became bad-asses. No one would fuck with us. We stole tapes and clothes and everything we thought would make us cool and other people jelous... what we didn't know was that we were digging ourselves a much deeper hole.
me with graffiti


Amy and i spent most days together. Some days i had to go to Andover to see my cousin Missi. She was always the jelous type. As soon as i got a new toy for my birthday or Christmas, she would break it. She broke my crayons when i tried to draw nice picures. She spread rumors about me behind my back and she hated every member of our family who i loved... which was all of them.
Missi is 11 days yonger than me. She is the 1st child of the 3rd marriage my uncle johnny, a good cop, with a temper as most cops have for reasons that now make a lot more sense. Missi and her father never seemed to get along, but her and her mother, a fat Italian ER rape crisis nurse who worked at Lawrence general, were always gossipping together and laughing when others were weak.
My aunt and uncle met at Lawrence General in the ER, because Uncle Johnny was a well known tough police man in Lawrence. Him and my grandfather, his father who had been a cop in Reading, were always fighting John and Cheryl had my cousin Missi before they were married. John was maybe still legally married to his 2nd ex wife when Cheryl got pregnant. They had a shotgun backyard wedding. I was there. Cake was thrown. i don't recall much else. But my "twin cousin" Missi always had it in for me. She was always jelous because i was skinny and pretty and talented. Missi was smart too. She even claims she remembers being born. She taugh her brother, John Jr how to read before he could even talk. We used to take him around to places to show him off. We'd take his 2 year old self into stores and tell them he was a genius, that he could read. We'd ask store clerks to provide some written material, and then we'd have John read it. Problem was, that Missi told people she taught him how to read, but no one was interested in what she had to say. She was old enough to read. They'd humor her and say "good job" but she was so so jelous of her brother for getting the fame for her skill. She loved to torture her brother. She lovd to torture in general.

So when Missi found out i had a new best friend, who was a "twin", she was jelous. She thought that her and i were supposed to be the twins. Why would i hang out with another twin if i had one of my own?
Missi made it her duty to go behind m back and try to make my best friend into her best friend and convince my best friend that i was shit. She started dating boys in my town and asking her mother to bring her to Reading (we lived in different towns) so that she could get together with my friends without me being there. She turned everyone against me, telling them that i was crazy and i was using them.

The summer before 8th grade, Hurricane Bob struck the area. It did not hit too hard in Reading, in fact, i spent most of the hurricane sitting on the roof outside my bedroom window where i would go to sneak cigarettes and wine coolers with Amy when she was over. On the roof i watched the Fitzpatrick family (a family of 9 kids, like my dad's family) who lived around the corner, try to ride their bikes down the street in the wind. It was just as crazy as me being on the roof. It was like we were all trying to get ourselves killed.

The day after the hurricane, a boy from the grade above me, who i barely knew except that he was popular and a jock, invited me to a party at his house. He said everyone was gonna be there. He said it was a make-out party and it would be fun. When i arrived at the party, i was greeted by only 3 boys. I asked where everyone was, and they said they were in the rooms (all the doors were shut) making out. Greg, who's house it was, told m to come up to his sister's room and he would provide beer. I told him i was no longer drinking, because even at 12 years old, i knew i had a problem with drinking. It somehow made me miserable. Was it the drinking or what happened while i was blacked out i did not know yet, but i told them i was all set with drinking.... plus, my parents had begged me not to go to the party. They said absolutely not... but i told them a bit later that i was going for a bike ride, and that was when i showed up at the party. i knew if i drank anything, my parents would know and i'd be punished, and no one else was there anyway, so it seemed a bit weird.

The 3 boys took me to the sister's room, and before i knew it, they were all on top of me. two help me down while the other finger fucked me and bit my boobs. They took turns, and at one point while i was being restrained and raped, another boy came in the room and took poloriod pictures of me. I didn't know why until 8th grade started. I left the "party" when they were done. I was ashamed and sore, and my blue stretchy shorts had blood on them, and it wasn't period blood. I had to walk my bike home because it hurt too much to sit on the seat. This was the price of being a whore. I wasn't going to tell anyone i failed, so instead, i went home and called Amy and bragged to her about my sexual conquest.
me with graffiti


My cousin had an addiction to one of those chat lines. She used to call them up and talk all day long. If you have ever seen an add for a phone chat line, they make it seem like all the cool people will be chilling on the phone with you, but really, it is a place for young kids who feel left of of real fun to meet pedophiles who act like they are your knights in shining armor. Our parents punished us for calling, but whenever i went to Missi's house, she would call them anyway. We had fake names like in on line chat rooms. My cousin was called Diamond, and the boys/men on the phone line would call up Missi's favorite radio stations and dedicate songs to her. It made her feel famous. My name on the phone line was Maliki. My parents knew that i called "the line" when i was with Melissa and they yelled at me for it and i yelled back like a spoiled little teenager, and they told me "WHATEVER YOU DO, DO NOT GIVE OUT YOUR PHONE NUMBER"
Now, i dont recall if i gave it out or if my cousin gave it to this guy, but in 7th grade a 23 year old man named "Brett" started calling my house and making obscene calls looking for Maliki. This was While i was dating this boy in my grade, Mike Crowley, a gentleman whom i could not understand what he wanted in me. He did not want sex, he hardly even wanted to touch my boobs. He just told me how beautiful i was and how much he loved me. It made me angry that he did not want to have sex with me. I told him if he really loved me, he'd try to fuck me. But he wouldn't, so i started talking on the phone late at night while my parents were in bed, with Brett, the prank caller. He taught m about phone sex and told me he loved me so much and wanted to meet up with me in person.
There was an all day Jr Youth Group event at my church, and although my parents wanted to drop me off there, i asked them just to give me the $20 for the event, and i would ride my bike. They knew i was lying, but arguing with me always turned out painful, so they let me go.
I rode my bike to my middle school instead, where Brett met me in his shitbox car, smelling like booze and cigaretts. He made me nervous, he was so old and yucky, but he said he loved me and would make me feel good. He took me to a motel on route 1 in Saugus... the kind you rent by the hour. He stripped himself and then me, and we got into the bed and he tried to put his penis in me, but the bones closed over the hole in fear. He was angry that he could not get his dick in me, so he hit me and told m to blow him instead, and took me promply back to the school. I thought we were going to spend the whole day together like he had told me, and here it was, still only like 10 on the morning, and i had told my parents i would be at the Youth Group event until late that afternoon. I locked my bike up at the school, again to sore to ride, and i walked downtown to the convienient store, hoping no one would see me and call my parents to tell them i had lied. i was so scared that they'd know i lied. They did not approve of me being a whore. i didnt understand why not, but i was just a kid.
I called Amy from the pay phone at the store down the street from her and told her i needed to come over ASAP. She said i could, but that her family was about to go out that day to visit relatibves overnight. I asked if i could come by until she left, and she said of course, so i ran to her house and bragged to her that i had just lost my virginity for real, by choice. I told her i was in love and what a good man Brett was. Amy's family had to leav sooner than i wanted, and i was left with no where to go all day. I found retreat in the woods by my grandparent's house. I had to enter from the other side to avoid walking by their house. In the afternoon it started to rain. I was not due back until night. I walked to one of my newer friend's houses and knocked on her door, but her father said she was not allowed to see me. i begged him but he called me a no good drunk whore and he didn't want me around his daughter. So i walked to the church where my youth group was soon due to be back from their day trip. I had to wait there alone for a while, but luckily the door to the parish center was open and i hid in the bathroom until the group returned. They asked where i had been. They thought i was going to be going on the trip with them, and i told them i was sorry and that i was riding my bike to get there in the morning and i got a flat tire and panicked. My youth group leader Lynne did not believe me, but she took me to her office to find out what really happened. i told her because i trusted her, but i said that if she told my parents that they would beat me and that i'd have to kill myself. She was scared and so she did not tell them. She cared about me but also knew i was lying about something.

I stayed in youth group for the rest of middle school and also high school. The St. Agnes youth group, and Lynne was the coolest leader a kid could ask for. She was open minded, accepting, huggable and she was even a little bit of a rebel despite the fact that she waited for marriage to lose her virginity, which i thought was just crazy. She said swear words sometimes and when she occaisionlly read important, relevant stories from the bible, she would refer to God as "she". She had all of us in youth group doing charity, raking leaves and bringing food to old people, soup kitchens... we loved to help others. i loved my youth group because it made me feel like even though i had this horrid whore side, i was doing something right.
The year after i graduated, Lynne was fired by St. Agnes for being too liberal, and they hired a bible belt lady to tak her place. She was young and beautiful, but no one liked her cuz all she did was quote the bible and act like youth group was CCD class (so i was told by my younger sister who had joined youth group while lynne was still there.) i don't think lisa stayed in youth group much longer. Most of the kids dropped out after Lynne left.

Brett kept calling me after that day, asking when we would get together again. My grades from the start of 6th grade were mostly all A's and B's, but by the time i reached 8th grade, i failed everything but English... of course, English was a bit of a challenge as i was attracted to my English teacher. Looking back again, i see she reminded me of the Godmother. None of the boys or i were ever able to concentrate in class because we were looking at Mrs. Howland's great legs.
she was a good teacher too, although i manged to get decent grades having not done any homework whatsoever, and never having read the books or short stories assigned. i didn't do homework in middle school. i had a job as a whore.

One day,early in 8th grade, sitting in english class, everyone was staring at me and taking "mock" photographs of me (pretending to take pictures with an invisible camera". They kept doing it while Mrs. Howland's eyes were on the board, so when i jumped out of my seat and screamed "what the fuck are you all doing to me?" i was asked to sit down and calm down. A note was passed to me when she was at the board again. "We saw the poloroids. We know what you did this summer" it said.
I knew they were talking about the finger fucking incedent at the jock's house, but i thought it was my fault. i chose to go there to the house even though i had been told not to... i was a whore and they were just doing what people do to whores. i never even thought to report it as rape. I denied POSING for the pictures, which to this day i have still never seen, but i could not deny the act.
My boyfriend Mike was so angry at me. We had broken up and gotten back together about 20 times already... i had been counting. He was mad and he wrote me letters telling me what a whore i was. I told him i loved him but that i needed to have a sexual relationship as well, and he didnt want one... he just wanted to love me and i couldn't understand how that worked.

Brett kept calling me and i kept ignoring him. i started drinking again though to wash away the memories. i took diet pills to keep me up longer and i did anything at all to fuck up my head.

There was another girl in my grade, from my church, who seemed to find me intreaging. Her mother was a grumpy dykish looking woman who couched softball and would not allow her daugher to hang out with me. This was now my second friend who was not allowed to see me. I called her mom and asked her what the fuck her problem was, and she said her problem was that i needed to change my life if i was gonna see her daughter, because her daughter was not going to be best friends with a druggie whore. She told me i should try out for a sport, so i decided to go with softball. I wasnt too bad until i started bringing vodka in my thermous to games instead of water or gatorade. But i was determined to show that woman that i could play spoirts AND be me. I of course have grown up since then and respect Mrs. Riley for protecting her children from the evil forces in my life. I thought i hated her for such a long time because i really loved her daughter and wanted her as my friend. i felt like i was being victimized by her, but i was victimized by all else.