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Years later

Everything sucks. I literally wasted my life, some through fault of my own and more through molestation, rape, black people not believing in mental illness, and a trip to the ER that included police offering to taze me (I told them to go ahead and Eric Gardner me...hey if they were better trained and not so fucking racist it wouldn't have happened so they better own that fucking shit). My lovely trip ended being strapped to a gurney by the FDNY, who told me to piss myself, then stole the one pair of shoes that were versatile and I had saved up for- but the best was when I told them pissing myself wasn't sanitary and they slid the fucking safety bar down; and slammed my head against the point of the metal lined corner.

If I'd known it would turn out like this I would have tried to take a year off before school (I worked hard for that scholarship) or just jumped at the NYU library before they put the barriers.

let's see what happens...

I started this journal in High School, and now I'm just about to turn 32. All my old entries were teenage drama or sex stuff I didn't want my dad to find. There will still be sex stuff here. The teenage drama, though, will be left behind. I want to see if restarting this will allow me to reflect more on what I've written, and maybe get some different perspectives.


I'm down, but I'm not out- bitches.

V
And so it goes...

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secret_squirrel
The right piece of cheese

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