Virgin Whore

That’s my new nick name.

So much has happened and passed and died and has been reborn that I don’t know where to begin.

Aron and I. I suppose there never was such a thing. He loves baking cakes than anything else. No. I think that’s just where his focus is. I think everyone has a top three focus list. And I’m probably number eighty five or so on his focus list. I just can’t afford living with that emotionally. I don’t want to stick around to find out that he loves his career or another girl instead of me.

Also.

The last time I saw him. Last Saturday. It’s been a week hasn’t it? We were watching a movie together and I was falling asleep and he was walking his hands all over me. I fall asleep for two minutes, I’m sure he noticed. Because he had his hand down my shirt.

"How’d you manage that, didn’t know you were that slick."

He turns red and I politely say it’s late and we should go our seperate ways. And he hasn’t called me since. Which is what I wanted in the end. To fall for him, to be violated, and to never speak to him again. Hence my new nick name. It’s catchy. Just try saying it.

Yesterday I open my drawer at work, and what do I discover? Statements requested by a Mr. Aron "I learned my moves in eigth grade and haven’t changed since" Pervert. It was my banker duty to call Aron and tell him his documents were in. Good thing one of his empolyees answered. What a relief. I just hope I can avoid him for the rest of my life. That would be grand. But that’s not reality.

I feel like a blow up doll. Like. I don’t want to get into it. Too late.

In other news. I’m moving out.

In other other news. I disappointed my mother. She compared me to my younger siblings then proceeded to say I was her only hope for something good. "Why can’t you just be a regular person, why can’t you be normal Anak?"

She wants me to come home to my sister and her family at nine o’clock everynight. And just sit and watch t.v. and crochet, and make dinner. That’s how it’s supposed to be. Ok. Why can’t you be normal? Why do you have to dissapoint me she said. Don’t cry! You. Don’t you know what you put everyone in this family through? You have no right to cry! What’s wrong with you? What’s going on? You never call me! You worry me to death! I tell your sister to call the police department and check the hospitals to see if you’re still alive! You never call anyone to let them know what’s going on.

I’m getting drunk and doing coke and working my corners. I think I might be pregnant.

I owe so much to everyone. Including my pimp.