I had a fairly lonely childhood. My parents divorced when I was 7, and my brother basically raised me from then on. I was always overweight, so I found myself being the oddball. When I hit about 11 all my friends started chasing boys, or the guys were chasing girls. But I was a tomboy. No one chased me. It bugged me a bit, but I wasn't all that interested in the having a purse wearing makeup bullshit that was going on, so I would just wander off on my own, and avoid them all.

Unfortunately, at this time in my life I learned the wonderful art of suicidal idealations. They started at 10, but they never should have. I went for 2 months in Gr.5 where I had no friends. Because of this new relationship interest going on around me, I really was left out. I was a fat tomboy......it just wasn't gonna happen. So, I went through a point in my life where I was completely alone, and wishing to end it all. It really sucked for me. I eventually hooked up with a guy, became best friends with him, and used to spend afterschool time with him in a swamp catching frogs. It was great. He didn't care about girls, or that bullshit, so we just sort of did our thing. Kinda said to hell with everyone else.

I was always the one to be picked on....until I was 12, and met Kerry. My brother had a gf named Kerry. She was amazing. My brother got into punk when I was about 11, so I kinda knew what was going on with it, but Kerry.....with her spiked hair, and big boots, and chains.......well, she took over my world. She sat me down one day, and made me listen to the Sid & Nancy soundtrack. Then it was The Sex Pistols, then it was Souxsie and the Banshees. She amazed me. The music amazed me. She adopted me as her little sister. When I was raped that spring, she was the only one I told. She was viscious, and would stalk the guy. It was great. I wanted to be her.

Soon I started to slowly become my own person. My head was shaved, I started on the black clothing, I got a chain collection. Studded wristbands...and the whole shibang. I was full out by the time I was 13.....that was 1988. I liked the way it made me feel. It was like a power trip. No one saw my weight anymore, all they saw was how much of a freak I was. I hid behind the image. But still...I was alone.

My brothers friends would do sick shit like pretend they liked me, then when I fell for it, they would all laugh at me. My brother though it was great. He beat the shit out of me every day anyway....he didn't care. I wasn't allowed to look at, or speak to his friends. If I did, I got the shit kicked out of me. So be it. I hid in my room, and experimented with make up. I got lost in my music, and my mind.....and alcohol.

I discovered alcohol at about 12. I used to sneak it from my mom. I didn't care. The burn made everything better. I fucking needed to numb myself. But drugs scared me, and smoking was gross to me at that age. But drink......straight rye always did the trick. Crown Royal preferably. It also helped to fill the cold empty void inside me. No one wanted me at all, they laughed at me, the one time that I thought someone wanted me, he lured me to his house and raped me....geez thanks.

The drinking carried me through junior high. Then I hit my first year of highschool, and discovered the wonderful world of pot. I prefered hash though. I found it smoother to smoke, and a better high. Lots of blades were done in those days. Fuck man, my friends burner on her stove was permanently deformed from the knives. I liked the loss of feeling. So, I stuck with it. Went to a couple of acid bashes, started dropping gravol for a buzz, then eventually started taking molotov cocktails of any pills I could find that might fuck me up. It was a sport.

Then my mom met the prick, and my life got worse. A complete stranger moved into my place when I was 15, and started to tell me what to do. I hated it. After almost a year of hell, I told the rents to get fucked, and I left. I was on the street. So a girl I had met in HS, set me up in an old condemned house. My first night there I walked into a room to see a prostitute shoot up in the back of her knee. Reality check! I apologised to them, and immediately went outside, and sat watching the world go by. I didn't want to be there, but it was better than being at home. I called my dad once, and he freaked out. He said he was going to call me in as a missing person, I ended up having dinner with him that night. He slid me money, and stuffed me with food. (within 6 weeks I had lost 60 pounds) He told me that he had seen my mom, and she told him she didn't care where I was, or if I was even dead. It was my decision, and out of her hands. He drove me back to the house, and hugged me hard, then said goodbye. He made me feel loved that day. But also, made me hate my mother more.

Coming soon......the house storied....death, destruction, alcohol poisoning, and I got me a bf.....

I was 16......11 years ago......but clear as the day I was there.

Laterz,

IVY

Quiet-Bitch!

~WTF?~ - Saturday, Mar. 25, 2017
~Relaxation~ - Tuesday, Sept. 01, 2015
~The hunt is on.~ - Tuesday, Aug. 04, 2015
~Sometimes~ - Friday, Mar. 21, 2014
~Fawk~ - Tuesday, Jan. 07, 2014