Friday, 4 May 2007
is there a road out of here?
It's been one of those days. Ordinarily, I'm not one to quote lines from American movies, however, "I'm just a fucked up girl looking for my own piece of mind", is how I'm feeling today.
I sometimes wish that I could crawl out of my own head. I constantly analyse everything and panic that things are going to go wrong. Growing up with alcoholic parents, being on the street at 14 and an abusive and violent stepfather all wrapped up against a backdrop of middle class suburbia can do that to a girl I suppose. It's funny. Sort of.
When I first left home, I felt so streetwise. I moved in with a foreign exchange student from my school who lived with his brother, also an exchange student, who was attending University. It was the summer holidays, I was just about to turn 15 and I thought that I had the world under control. The brother's girlfriend,I'll call her Jane, a blonde of perhaps 21 or 22 took me under her wing and made sure that I ate properly and was okay.
A week or so later, I woke up to find Jane screaming on the driveway. Her boyfriend had beat her and she was dragging her stuff to her car. She grabbed me and off we went in her red convertible sports car. She rented a two bedroom serviced apartment in the City and told me that I should stay with her until I was on my feet. On one condition, I would need to be out during the evening as she would be working from home. That posed no problem to me. It was summer, I'd discovered the joys of passionpop and had appropriated a fake id. Unfortunately, after a particularly heavy evening on vodka, I managed to drink just enough to give me alcohol poisoning. There would be no going out for me for a few days. In fact I could barely manage to leave my room. Late in the evening, I craved water and stumbled out toward teh kitchen. Standing there, in the middle of the hall were two men and Jane. Naked.
She was a prostitute and I had absolutely no idea, I was so naive. I grew up quite a lot that day. (Not in the participation sense of learning I might add).
Now, don't get me wrong, I don't feel sorry for myself. I've gone to university, travelled and have wonderful friends. However, sometimes I wonder just how far I've really come. 90% of the time I'm fine. More than fine even. But there is still that 10% where I feel scared that I'll never be able to let go of all the bullshit.
Tomorrow's a new day and I'm sure I'll feel much better. Getting it out of my head and on to paper is has helped a little already.