I had broken up with my decent guy. Being a young teen he was into sex and my sex drive had died with my hair. I felt decidedly unsexy. He told me he didn’t care but I couldn’t even kiss him. Not like that. I said I wanted to stay friends. He said he couldn’t be friends. Something about loving me too much, stupid reason. I thought I loved him too. I was just as stupid.
Throughout this whole thing, I didn’t care much. I just went through the steps and did as I was told. Weird, I wasn’t all that into doing as I was told but I didn’t have much choice. Maybe that had something to do with the massive doses of antidepressants. They kind of make everything seem like you're watching your own life through a hazy pane of glass. Separated and distant. Maybe it was because I just didn’t care about living. Obviously, I did survive.
Stopped taking those antidepressants. Didn’t much need them either because I grew up or because I cared more than I think I did about almost dying.
My hair grew back and I still haven't cut it. Don’t plan on cutting it.
After I was pronounced in remission my parents left the country. They went to Argentina. They've always been wild like that. I was born in Japan because they were travelling through. They spent my first four years there. I looked cute in a kimono, still have my kimonos. Was conceived on that beach from the movie The Beach with DiCaprio. Thanks for that information mom.
Started living with my best friend’s sister and her kid in this trailer on the property where I used to ride. Still had my horse. Didn’t ride him anymore.
Her brother stopped in. Fresh out of jail. He had these ratbag jail gun done swastika tattoos. One giant one on his chest and a small one on his hand. The hand you put forward to shake so it would be right there every time he met someone.
He was older and bad. I had liked him since the first time I met him. I had been sixteen or around that when we met. My friend and I had been hanging around minding our own when he burst in. Put me on his knee and gave me a line of coke. I had been dating that decent guy at the time, he was there I think.
Course as soon as he showed up everything went to shit. We started smoking crack. Worst drug ever. Not because it ruins lives, which it does, but because it isn't enjoyable. I had actually had some before when I’d moved out with that old guy we indulged a bit. It wasn't a bit of indulging this time though. It was more of a full-blown addiction. Thanks to my best friends brother. Not sure what I expected from a guy with swastika tattoos.
We weren't dating per se but we did fool around every now and then. The first time it happened we were just sitting around on a pull out couch with a bag of MDMA playing Xbox. The first Fable I think, that or Morrowind. He leaned over and kissed me. One of those soft sweet kisses. His thumb brushed my cheek. He pulled back, looked deep into my eyes and told me that he had wanted to do that for so long. That he just hadn’t known how. He was a total playboy. I always knew that he was only doing it because he could. Honestly so was I. It isn’t really being used if you're doing it right back.