I don’t know if I’m going to be okay 

I don’t feel good and I don’t feel bad. 

I’m not totally empty, I feel like a needle is stinging my heart. 

It’s much more irritating and uncomfortable than it’s painful. 

It bothers me, it makes my mind obsessed with it. 
It never goes away. It’s exactly the same feeling as the pea under the mountain of mattresses. 

I don’t care about what’s is related to my persona. I’m much more concerned on how to stop the stinging. 
I don’t hope, I don’t wish, I don’t expect, I don’t pray for the best anymore. I’m just interested in getting rid of that feeling. 

The days pass, the weeks are over and I realize that I’m still stuck in the past like I haven’t changed at all. 

I do all my daily duties, I am automated. 

I don’t think that I can rise from this. I’m not sure that I’ll recover. I don’t know if I’m ever going to be okay after this again. 


My absence 

I felt under the weather. I pretty much shut down. I haven’t been that isolated in a long time. And this is one of the times, I was a socialite bee, I haven’t socialize that much in a while too. Smiling, laughing, pretending to be okay, to the point of actually not caring about my situation. 

I’ve been staring into space like air was a study subject. I didn’t have the energy, the motivation to talk at all about it, to write about the struggle that just seems to have become part of me now. It’s like I’m myself when I’m depressed now. 

I don’t think I deserve happiness, I don’t think I can find happiness, I think that the me that’s faking joy and normal it’s the me that’s here to stay. And I’ve just lost all the confidence and courage to bring this up again. Every time I talk about it, the person doesn’t ever understand what I’m going through, what I’m feeling, what I’m thinking. The more light or longer it is, the more intolerant they get. “You aren’t done with that already? Seriously? How big of a pity party can you throw for yourself? “

I’m not normal I know. But nobody noticed. Nobody acknowledges my depressing words and I don’t blame me because in my head, they’re throwing rocks at me until I die, so this is a much better situation. 

I don’t sleep much because I dream of my downfall, when I close my eyes, I’m seeing my horrifying death. When I talk to people, I get tired so quickly and then I get some time alone, but instead of relaxing I’m feeling abandoned and unwanted and rejected. It doesn’t even make sense anymore. 

I’ve been having anxiety and I’m stressed to the point my heart is basically jumping in my chest on a daily basis. I’m trying to postpone everything and that caused so many fails, falls and expulsions. 

Am I being full of myself? Am I just pretending to feel like shit just because I’ve doing everything wrong and failing lately? Am I just looking for getaways? Am I a miserable pitiful young woman? Am I even really depressed? Aren’t I just making all of this up? 

I can’t even think anymore.


My heart was ripped of my chest years ago, before my teens precisely. My mother was a drug addict who tried to blackmail my rich father with her pregnancy. It backfired when he rolled her over with his brand new car. 

Luckily, I wasn’t badly hurt but my mother has been limping ever since. Her left leg couldn’t flex anymore and her back, because of the impact on her spinal cord, has been torturing her ever since. She became a junkie, addicted to pain medicine and quickly to other powerful drugs. When I was 7, we moved in with her drug dealer. He would shove the medicines down her throat, smirking while she’d foamed and her eyes would go white. And just at the last moment would he save her. He was a nurse who got his licensed revoked for smuggling pills. I was an early bloomer, at 9, my breasts were already showing and my hips were a bit wide. I couldn’t wear mini skirts anymore because my ass was getting in the way. My mother was always high or coming down from a bad trip (they’ve been ineffective for a long time now), so I never really understood what was going on with me, my body was changing, sometimes I would feel hot for no reason, I would have a few pimples here and there… I started to care about my appearance, I wasn’t the same anymore but I did my best to still look the same. 

One afternoon, it started raining cats and dogs while I was coming back from school. When I got home, I was drenched, I was soaked to the bones. My step father was watching the weather report and my mom had passed out on the ground, in the corner of the room. She looked so pitiful, my step father took one look at me and was instantly surprised. He told me I should take a hot bath, otherwise I would catch a cold. I went upstairs and got into the bath, thinking what could have caused his reaction. I was so lost in my thoughts, I didn’t hear him coming in. I only realised his presence when he entered the bathtub behind me, pushing me to make some space. 

I remembered feeling weird about it since it was the first time we took a bath together. I remembered feeling something hard poking my back. He made me take a pill, telling me it would prevent the cold and reinforce my immune system. I didn’t question it, a few minutes later, I started to feel warmer and warmer, my body was itching and fidgeting, my mind was a bit blurry, I was really bothered. At the same moment, I felt hands on my chest, gripping it hardly. Then they started touching my body all over and I would get even warmer, letting out little noises. I closed my eyes, lost and confused, and right after, I felt fingers down there. Things escalated pretty quickly, he took my innocence in the bath. It was scary, it was weird, confusing but his words were sweet and I felt this warmth hungrily eating me from the inside until it was all over. When I came down, I was broken and I couldn’t understand why. Since this day, I’ve been my step father’s partner. As I got older, his games would intensify. He even got my mother involved, making her do things to me. Every time, I was drugged, high on aphrodisiacs. 

When I was in middle school, he’d make me do all kind of sick things : once I didn’t wear panties and another time, we did it right before I went to school. When the bell rang for lunch and I tried to stand up, a white liquid flowed out of me, disgusting my classmates who reported it to the teacher. I was called to the principal office, my parents were called too and there was a social worker. My step father lied through his teeth, putting all the blame on me, saying I haven’t been home lately, that I’ve been hanging out with weird people, that I was imitating my ill mother. They sympathized with him, I didn’t know what to respond, I kept my mouth shut. We were put on probation and my mom was sent to jail. I was only 13 years old, it was still a crime. At this moment, I became my step father’s play thing. He would invite a lot of his friends over while he was gone. As soon as I would close the door behind them, they would jump on me and do their thing. Sometimes, they were more than 1, it would get as much as 6. It was terrifying, I never knew what they would do to me. Some would be sweet, others brutal, I started to stop caring, I stopped reacting and because of that, they would drugged me, so I could feel it. 

One afternoon, while three on them were roughly doing a drugged me, the door opened and my step father entered along with the social worker. She screamed, horrified and I got sent to juvie. While I was there, I got a break from the raping, from the drugs, it felt like a paradise and my heart was slowly getting pieced together. Only, until I got released for good behavior. I knew nobody would believe my story, specially since I was caught in the act. I asked to be put on a foster home but my social worker, charmed by my step father scolded me and took me back to his house. That night, as I was blindfolded, my legs and arms tied, my climaxing step father told me that my recovering and guilty mother died, she overdosed. I cried and yelled. As the last tear rolled down my cheeks, I knew everything was over, I was done for, there was nothing left for me. 

When I went back to school, the reasons why I got into juvie led to many rumors. Most of them stated my sexual drive. Number of times, I was locked into bathrooms or lockers just because they wanted their way with me, students (male, female), teachers, the janitor and even some parents. I got used to it. I let them do what they wanted with me, then dusted myself off and went on my way. At home, my step father would wait for me with more and more friends. People that I would have to suck, to ride, to please. My life became all about fucking. 

Before I knew it, I was a prostitute owned by my step father. The only thing he cared about was my health because he said that sick hoes weren’t valuable. Once he knew about the raping in school, he made a huge scandal, the school had to pay him big money, he scared those who assaulted me. Only there, did I have a bit of calm and peace. I grew up beautiful, I grew up with a perfect body and I entered a whole other class. My clients were rich and I would spend my nights in luxurious hotels. 

All of this were until now, I was coming back from my step father’s funeral, he died from a heart attack, on me. The irony was that I was given a whole lot of cash, around 2 millions. I didn’t know what to do with all of this. All I’ve ever done in my life was fucking, I was never taught better, it was my destiny, the only thing I knew how to do. I opened up a secret high class escort club. With my connections, it got popular pretty quick, I was always busy, I even had to employ some other girls. 

I kept on doing the same thing, until I couldn’t anymore, until I was no longer wanted. And I got rejected pretty quick, it wasn’t  a surprise, I was worn out, and because of a few abortions, my body wasn’t what it used to be. At 34, I was again aimless in life. An old geezer married me, he was as perverted as my step father. You would thought that passed the sixties, a man would focus on his health. Well this one spent his money on Viagra and his time literally on me. Unfortunately, it wasn’t good for his heart so he enjoyed watching all type of people, that he would have paid beforehand, have their way with me at the most odd hours and places. There was this time at a coffee shop at lunch hour, or that one time in the bathroom at church or that time behind the counter in the reception hall at his company. He recorded all those times and sold them to a porn production company. 

 When he died 20 years later, I thought that I was at the end of the rope. Aged of 54 years old, who would want me? Billionaire from my escort business and my late husband’s inheritance, I couldn’t decide what to do. And at that moment, after a long long time, I felt a heartbeat, strong and powerful, it even hurt me. Slowly, I felt my heart pulsing in my veins again and I cried. I cried and cried and cried and cried. 
It took me more than 30 years but I was finally back from the dead, my soul had been struggling to be free and it even awakened my heart. I undergo plastic surgery, I changed my identity, I sold my escort business, I transferred my money and I moved far away. It’s been long since I felt something and I would love to experience it before I died. I don’t know if it’s too much to ask. I don’t know if my slutty ways will keep me from it. But I just want to try, to life a tiny part of the life I was deprived of. 

⚠ ⚠ 

Most of my upcoming stories and thoughts won’t be pretty at all. They’ll be dark, painful, downright sadistic and twisted. I haven’t been that intensely depressed in a long time and my imagination is catching up terrifyingly quick. My mind is sinking deeper and my brain is anesthetized, my heart doesn’t respond anymore and my soul is buried. No emotion, no empathy.. 

So warning ⚠ 

If you’re not up to it, don’t read it. 

Shall I die? 

I’ve been singing this song non stop today. 

I went to a karaoke bar and spent my evening singing most of the songs that resonate in me nowadays. 

I went to the club. I danced so much. Alone, I twirled, boogied, I even did a bit of twerking. I was feeling it so much they left the dance floor to me. 

I drank so many cocktails, pink, red, orange, blue, neon green. God knows what they were at a moment, they just kept coming and I kept drinking. It could have been toxic waste, I wouldn’t know. 

It was like I had transcended. My body was going on and living on its own. 

Since this morning, I’ve been too passionate, I’ve been feeling it too much…

I should have known. 

I felt like throwing up so I got out of the humid atmosphere but nothing was coming up my throat. 

I went home. I noticed my look on the mirror. My makeup has faded, my skirt is wrinkled, my tank top is stained with the drinks. The stunning me, that left this same room a few hours ago, looked like I had a great and crazy night.

I sat on my bed, in the dark. I was remembering everything that happened today. My phone was blowing up with notifications confirming the awesome night I had. 

But somehow, I wasn’t feeling anything. So I went to the kitchen. I looked at the drawer for a few minutes then went back to my room and sat again on my bed. 

I slit my wrists and now I’m watching the blood slowly flow out of my veins. And it doesn’t affect me. My hands are already cold and my heart is panicking but I don’t seem to feel it. I’m starting to think 

Am I really going to die? Am I truly going through with this??

I’m starting to get scared. I take my phone with my bloody fingers and I tell myself, there’s still time, call the emergency number. But instead, I logged in here and wrote the end of my story, wondering if I’ll have time to end it before I’m drained dry. 

Seemed like I chose, I’m going to die. After that, I’ll lay on my bed, put on my earphones, close my eyes and hope to find the enthusiasm I used to feel when I would listen to those songs. 

Yeah, I’d like that.. 

Fairytale in my future (1/2)

Nowadays, people are getting upset and mad at Disney (most famous in the industry) because it only releases animated movies of dependent young girls or pretty little bimbos waiting to be rescued and such. They say it has a bad influence on their kids and portrays a bad examples for the young minds. 

Well,  I, who still enjoy Disney’s animated movies, say : “My precious yet unborn children come watch the new Disney movie”.

Why?  Simple, fairytale stories are what they are => fairytale. Yes, they can be used to teach lessons and morals but they pretty much are beautiful stories to make the mind wonder. I’m pretty sure that half the word disagrees with what I just said and would respond : “Do you want your daughter to wait for a man to do everything for her? ” or “Do you want your son to think that women are helpless?”. 

Well, please read the scenario. 

7 – 8 years old :

Daughter : “Mommy, I want to be a princess”

Me : “No can do honey, because you already are. “

Son : “Mommy, I want to marry a beautiful princess just like this one. “

Me : “I’m sure the one you’ll end up choosing will be a beautiful girl in every way. “

9 – 10 years old :

Daughter : “Mommy, I want a husband like Prince Charming that will come from far away to save me and we will live forever happy in his huge castle.”

Mother : “I’m sure you do. But every princess must have a good education and be able to save themselves first in case the prince gets delayed.”

Son : “When I grow up, I’m gonna find myself a beautiful girl that will adore me and that I’ll save from dragons, demons, show off my skills and marry her. “

Me : “It’s a good thing to be reliable. But don’t only rely on your physical skills, you have to prepare your mind, heart and soul too. “

 10 – 11 years old :

Daughter : “Mommy, today they asked me at school what I wanted to be and I said princess that takes care of a castle and kingdom.”

Me : “Baby, anywhere can be your castle and the man that you love won’t be nothing less than a prince to you and the place you’ll settled with might even be better than a castle, as long as both of you are together.”

Son : “Mommy, I don’t like Mullan, she is a girl but she acts like a boy. I won’t ever marry a girl like her. 

Me : “Or she can be the one that will motivate and challenge you to get even stronger. More than the beautiful princess that stays at home, she’ll travel with you and can live your awesome adventures together.”


Daughter  : “Who would stay around sleeping for a boy to come wake you up?? Tsk.. 

Me : “I’m really happy to hear that. Now, I’m sure that you won’t wait around and ask your single crush out. 

Son : “Like girls would take on archery and battle against boys. So unlikely to happen.”

Me : “I’m happy to hear that you value a girl that would work hard and compete against you. “


Daughter : “I so wish men were as romantic and chivalrous as Shrek. I do everything by myself. Well, at least I don’t stand around in a tower, pampering myself. If he’s not coming to me then I will go to him.

Me : “My little baby has grown so much. “

Son : “Those stories sure take me back. My girlfriend cares as much for her hair like Rapunzel as she cares about her career. She relies on me but I’m sure she could do great by herself.”

Me : “My little boy found himself a keeper. As long as you love each other, it will only reinforce your relationship.”