Guy is back!!
It’s been a long journey. It will continue to be. Although most of my scars are gone, but I still don’t feel quite back to where I was.
I started working at the club a couple weeks ago. I’m playing bartender. I wear tank tops and for some reason have a hard time hearing everyone. I have to lean into them. For some reason the men seem to think if I do this, talking to my chest makes it easier for me to hear. It doesn’t but I heard them well the first time. I’m just looking for tips. I want to pay back my dad. He helped me so much while I was in the hospital.
What happened?
According to my brain, nothing. My memories of the incident were removed from my little brain, plus about a week. Sure, some of it is remembered in bad 70’s Polaroid in my head, but for the most part, I have to take other people’s words for it. I had just walked out of the club in late April when I heard a pop. The next thing I knew I was waking up in the hospital with Mr. Mann sitting next to me. He had my hand. I remember squeezing it and he smiled. I remember the next day, or a week later, the Boy was there. He was talking to an older man I didn’t recognize.
In the ensuing months, I learned to eat again. I like to say I had an eating disorder as I put a spoonful of mash potatoes into my ear. I still remembered how to walk, which was nice, but my balance is still off. That is why I am the bartender. I can use the bar to prop me up, and prop up my boobs. I’ll survive. I’ll be dancing again soon. I just have to remember to not let go of the pole.
His name was Jack. At least, that is what he told us his name was. The police sill haven’t caught him. I remember he had just started becoming a regular at the club. He wasn’t a good tipper and his conversation revolved around the weather. He is what we call a time killer. You invested a little time into him until you saw someone with cash. It made him feel observed, and we had something to do.
Why did he do it?
I would like to ask him. But, like I’ve said, the police have not found him yet. Someday, I’m sure I’ll get to ask him. But until then, I’ll work on staying vertical (I haven’t turn my attention to getting horizontal yet, but will soon). Anyway, at least I am blessed with friends who have stood by me and helped me. I love them all.
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Drugs and Fiction
It’s like the first memory you ever had. It fades in and out and you see still Polaroids
of you outside your body. Is it real? Does it matter?
Pain makes the soul whole. It melts away the care of worry.
Time to continue.
Enough Already
Did you feel that
The frick’in thing that hit me took me out for a bit. But I’m back. See the boobs.
If you get hit by a boob, you'll know.. and sometimes you enjoy it.
Is the Seventh Sense….
I see white boobies!
Yes, those would be mammary glands
It’s only a test
Peaceful and relaxing
Nothing much to say. Just relaxing and feeling somber.
The eyes are sayng the water is fine... now get the hell out of the bathroom so I can have some me time!
Keith Caputo puts me in my depressing happy spot.
My Pink Fantasy
OK, so I’m a little into singers with attitude. Music often helps channel your feelings when you have to have them. Remembering the pain to music allows you to believe something good comes from everything. Too bad I can’t embed the actual video.
I’m Back
Not my back, but I'm back.
Tonight, I want to declare my return to the realm of the living. As my dad said, “Life is too short to remember the ugly things.”
WATCH OUT BITCHES AND THINGS IN BRITCHES! HERE CUMS GUY!!
If I were her shirt… I’d have stretch marks!
So what about his shirt. We all know his shirt would look better in pink. I just wondering if she had been wearing that shirt since eighth grade?
Tank top DOWN!!!
