vagina

WTFOMGFML

I have two, paid for vehicles.

The one I usually drive…the one whose back glass, which is almost as big as the windshield, got busted out several weeks ago, is dead.

Fucking dead.

Ok…no problem…I have another vehicle…it’s got no insurance and it’s not registered but all I want to do is ride to my back yard to my bff’s house to vent…I could walk but it’s about to rain….

I CAN’T FIND THE KEY….

fuck my life fuck my life fuck my life fuck my life fuck my life fuck my life fuck my life

I started working again today and made almost $100 in an hour…..so that’s cool…but I have to put on makeup to work and since I am allergic to makeup and I’m also allergic to my home…it’s double allergies….

haha…one of the symptoms of BPD is adult onset allergies.

I am now diagnosed severe asthmatic and severe COPD.

I got no insurance.

I AM FUCKING ANGRY.

I WANT TO FIGHT SOMEONE OR SOMETHING.

I want to rip my dad’s throat out.

I want to rip my dad’s throat out with the pinky finger of my left hand while using my right hand to slurp two scoops of yummy Baskin Robbins Chocolate Chip ice cream from a waffle cone…all the while keeping my face smiling the sweet smile of a little girl who is happy cause her daddy just bought her some ice cream.

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To The Junkies Reading My Blog….lol…

Don’t shoot up in the veins in your hands.

I know when you blow all the other ones out, your hand veins will look delicious, but if you live past your addiction you will regret it!

Especially if the rest of you still looks good….haha…like me…I look very good for my age but my hands look like they’re 70.

Just don’t do it….they blow real fast, anyway, and you’ll waste your dope.

Drinkin’ and Thinkin’

 

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I  feel myself dying and I’m not even trying to stop it cause I keep drinking, sitting here thinking how I watched my own mother drown herself slowly and give herself wholly to that Mardi Gras cup with liquid unholy….I remember thinking as I grew up that I would never drink from that cup of shame and demise; pregnant with lies….That cup made me hate her cause it kept her disguised and life is ironic cause now I’m my mother and I feel so demonic as the Mardi Gras cup, I mentioned before, stays in my hand as I walk out the door and I can hear daddy’s words ring in my head with one foot on the floor as I’m laying in bed…you’re worthless as shit, if you had a brain you’d be dangerous.  Your head is a hat-rack and I know you’ll be famous for being the most stupid girl who ever was born, you never were cute, you were always a thorn in the side of me and the woman I married and we can’t wait til you’re buried cause you bring such shame to our name…I guess daddy never took into account the heartache and pain a little girl feels when she loses her mother, ripped from the arms of the one who most loved her.  That’s why mommy drank herself to death….She wasn’t lying; my dad stole her breath when he stole her baby from her breast….and I refused to believe her til after her death.  Now she is gone and only questions are left.

Away From Here

The pain is acute

a knife in my brain

I’ve borne the shit well

except I’m unsane.

 

The hurt I should feel

more deeply inside

perhaps that  I do

but the shame makes me hide.

 

I don’t want to live

but I don’t want to die

Wings please grow back

allow me to fly.

 

far, far, far, far, far, far away from here.

Vagina Kicks

We just finished our reading group and it was almost time for first recess.  I was in Mrs. Gilbert’s third grade class, and I was ready for our first little break of the day.

Mrs. Gilbert was a new teacher at our school and so her class was located in a t-building right outside the end of one of the two long hallways which made up my elementary school.  I hated being in the t-building classroom.  It was very small and there were only two windows, one on either side of the room.  The walls were wood-paneled and they made the room seem dark and dreary, even on sunny days.  The darkness and feeling closed-in made the days even longer and more monotonous to me.

I was always a fast-learner and the kid who always finished tests and other classwork first.  That always left me with extra time for daydreaming and fidgeting.  Even though my grades were always good, it seemed like every teacher in every grade would write on most of my progress reports in the ‘teacher comment’ section:  “Space-cadet”, “Out-to-lunch”, “Daydreams a little too much”.

I swear, my teachers always wrote that shit.  It used to irritate me when I was in school, but now that I am an adult looking back, I think it was pretty cool.

The recess bell finally rang.  YAY!!!  It was time for ten minutes of pure fun!

Haha, that was generous.  None of the other kids ever really wanted to play with me.  I wanted more than anything to be included in their games and sports.  I also wanted more than anything to be one of the cool girls with the cool charm necklaces that were popular in 1985.

Every day, it seemed that at least two of the girls would have a new charm added to the brightly colored, plastic chain, which was already loaded with previously acquired charms.  I never had a charm necklace.  Or one of those big, rectangular digital watches, that were equally popular.  I wanted one of those watches really bad, too.

Did I mention I didn’t get a real ‘Cabbage Patch Kid’, until five years after the craze was over and I was going on thirteen and a little too old for baby dolls?

Ahhh…the joys of having a wicked stepmother and a narcissistic father.

So, the recess bell rang and children started hurriedly filing out of the room.  I was one of the last to leave, because as usual, I waited until the last minute to put all of my books back into their proper place before leaving.

I said I was fast at finishing ‘the work’….not the cleaning up part.

As soon as I stepped down the three stairs from the t-building to the sidewalk I was met by Darla and Sara (no ‘H’). These two girls were two of the ROUGHEST girls in the whole school.  In fact, Sara had failed so much she was almost a teenager and still in elementary school and I am pretty sure Darla had been held back a few grades, herself.

These two girls would often come to school with black eyes, and patches of hair missing from their heads.  There was even a rumor that Sara was already a mother.  They lived in one of the two roughest trailer parks in my small city.

Darla was in Mrs. Gilbert’s class, with me, though I had never really spoken to her.  Sara was a fifth-grader, so I DEFINITELY had never spoken to her, but everyone knew about her.

“Come here, we gotta show you something”, Darla said.

I looked behind me, very uneasily,  to make sure I wasn’t mistaking her speaking to me for someone behind me, she was actually speaking to, and I was hoping she was speaking to, but no, she was talking to me.  I just nodded my head and followed them.

Sara and Darla led me behind Mrs. Gilbert’s t-building classroom.  There was a ditch behind the building and on the other side of the ditch was a pretty dense wooded area.

The school children often played “Devil In The Ditch” behind the t-building, but today, there was not a soul back there.  It was just me, Sara, and Darla.

Both of them stood in front of me.  Darla was much taller than Sara and me, but at the time, both of those girls appeared to be Titans.  I didn’t know what they needed to show me, yet, but that riddle was quickly solved when out of the blue, Sara kicked me in my crotch as hard as she could.

“WHAM”…

Ok……some girl I don’t even know just kicked me in my pussy so hard that I think it might be bleeding.  What do I do?

My mind started racing and wondering how to get out of this situation.  My stepmother’s voice rang in my head, “Sarah, you better not EVER fight at school, and if you do, you will get put over my knee and I will whip your bare butt when you get home”….”Sarah, if anyone ever hits you at school, you just lay down on the ground and cry, YOU ARE NOT ALLOWED TO FIGHT BACK, or I will put you over my knee when you get home, and then your daddy will put you over his knee”.

Sara kicked me in my pussy again…., “WHAM!!”.

“WHAM!”

“WHAM!”

“WHAM!”

I just stood there and let her kick me in my private parts.  I don’t even think she bent her leg when she kicked.  It was just a straight kick up til her foot met my vagina, HARD.  Repeatedly.

I never uttered a sound.  I never moved.  I stood there like a statue and let her kick me.

I didn’t fucking cry, I didn’t do anything.  I went numb.

Another kid happened to come back there and saw what was going on and must have gone to get the principal, because after about 4-6 minutes of being straight-legged kicked in my pussy, the principal was behind the t-building.

That is all I remember.

I never even told either one of my parents what happened that day because I knew they both would tell me how it was my fault.

 

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I DARE ANYONE TO FUCK WITH ME NOW…..my left hook will make you silly and my right punch will make you die.