So I’m remembering “back in the day” (not that I’m that old mind you) when I was well, let’s say easy on the eyes and frankly just plain easy! I thought I was having so much fun. Little did I know what it would do to my already self conscious and insecure self later in life. I take full responsibility for my actions. I must also place some blame on the people that in a way took advantage of the cute drunk girl. I find myself hating those people. As with most others, I change drastically when under the influence of intoxicating substances. When sober I have a heart open to the world, friendship willling to be offered to anyone that needs it, an honest true friendship that doesn’t exist anymore, all in all inside I’m a genuine really good person that honestly cares. The ways I degrated myself and let other people do also just makes me sick. I know now that I didn’t have to be that girl. I took a few drinks from that ugly bottle and emerged as someone else. Someone that brought all of it on herself really. Maybe I was a good piece of ass…if you had to look for “the drunk girl” for that then you probably didn’t deserve a good piece of ass anyway! The more I think about it the sadness turns into anger and I feel my heart turn cold. Those people thought they used me, but I think I’ve figured out that it was just the opposite. Hell, I used them. I used them to get through another lonely night. Then after they were gone the next day I could forget about being lonely until the next weekend arrived. They called me…it was me that didn’t return their calls. I wouldn’t have even remembered their names had it not been for the answering machine that screened their calls. Please don’t think for one second that I’m proud of my actions. They disappoint me, embarrass me, make me feel totally ashamed of myself…because not only am I better than that now I was then too. But just to make myself feel a little better in this moment of thought, here’s to you…………….
So lost in the world, in the eyes, in time. Who is she? A mother, a friend, a drunk whore. What’s that light? It’s coming from her eyes…her soul. Look closely, listen intensely. You could hear it, even see it. It’s in there to be shown, to be seen, to be heard. She’s nobody. Yet such a somebody. Even a hero…to someone. Do you think she enjoys fucking you? She only enjoys your warmth through the night. Don’t flatter yourself! It will be someone else next week. There’s no pain that way. Just arms in the night and goodbye in the moring. She won’t even remember your name. Get over yourself. You think you used her? Think again you bastard.
Damn, now that felt good!
