ok so

i'm a little obsessed now. i've gone into a writing mode. i get crazy about writing when i'm distraught, i can't seem to stop, one day i wrote ten pages of single spaced autobiography. it is that very piece of work that I am so proud of that might have made a certain someone- lets call him Otis- a little scared of little old me. i gave him my sixteen page autobiography and asked him to read it, he didnt for a very long time. when he finally did he said nothing to me about it. ever.

the autobiography is full of me. it's supposed to be, is what you're thinking, i know that- but this was full of me in a way that most things and people have never experienced. i am a recovering meth addict, i don't look it or act it at all, but i am and this piece was full of it. of rock and crack pipes and going down on drug dealers and survival and my childhood and father and death and poverty and everything that i am, just laid out neatly for a reader to dicover, and i have a feeling that he did not want to know all this about me. my past is unpleasant. i am not ashamed.

i am sad, though, that all this history adds up to one big trouble of me. i am not an easy woman to be with, and i told otis as much- there are lots of reasons he doesn't want to "be romantic", i'm sure, probably my autobiography was a small part of a big pie. i just broke up with my partner of two years, lets call him Hank. he's probably the biggest part. Not him in particular, otis and hank are friends in fact, but the fallout of me post-breakup and my subconcious and not-so-subconcious desperation were probably also factors.

hmm. desperation.

which is where we come back to the sum of my histories. desperation. what else do i know? for as long as i remember, i have been locked out of love- my mother would throw us outside and throw the locks shut when we were kids, couldn't come in to pee, my parents were so desperate for love from each other us kids sometimes stood outside looking in and when they couldn't love each other anymore they had a hard time loving us fully- for all sorts of reasons. work. bills. losing everything.

my life has been full of desperation. when my mom left i was all alone with my brother and dad and my father started worrying about my basic survival, he showed it in funny ways, saying things like "use your womanly wiles to get what you want"-the essence of his message. i quickly internalized this, understanding that i, most likely, would not be able to make my living doing construction like my hero father. i would have to find another way to get by.