Post by twigz on Oct 19, 2023 12:36:50 GMT -5
back to the regularly scheduled programming
Geez! You don't sound like you had a good day. What did Count Olaf do to you? He's been nice to me.
Bluck. Rachel. Everyone's named Rachel. I wanna be named something cool like Aspen or Cenntinial.
Incest for Dummies...lol,....Im interested in hearing more, lol
No! No! No Abortion! Please! I know it's disturbing, but don't kill the baby!
My name is Samantha Dean. Sounds like a sucessful, intelligent girl. Well newsflash. I'm not. That's not even my real name. It's Sammy. I didn't live up to my parents expectations. Not that they really had any. My dad was always at that d*mn strip club down the street. My mom was a crackhead and a drunk, hating and critizing everything I did. When I was little, I'd cry every morning because I knew she wouldn't be home. I spent time worring about what strange man's house she'd wake up at next time. Usually she'd get back a day or two after she left. She come home with bruises. It hurt so much to see her destroyed from the inside out.
People at the doctors office say I'm a crackbaby. I can believe that. Maybe that's why I turned out the way I did. Maybe not. Doctors say I was born addicted to crack. Maybe that's why I did what I did. Out of spite. But who knows.
I was born in the ghetto; a small town on the outshirts of Houston called Pasadena. I dropped out in my junior year of highshool. My job as a bar stripper paid more than my parents jobs combined. If you wanna call those rats parents. Once you'd masered the art of pickpocketing, you were set. Prostitution pays more than you'd expect. Of course, I'd have to get high before I went to the nightclub. I couldn't do it when I was sober. I'd come to my apartment at 12:00 at night.
Nothing I did seem to fill me. No matter how much crap I bought. Cars I stole. Men I dated. High I got. Nothing...
Tell me what you think. It's my first attemp on this kind on story. I need some constructive critism.
tune in tomorrow for more typing tweens