Mom

Mark tells me.  I should go home.  He sais see your Mom.  I can't.  He tells me he can come.  See his Mom.  His mom is sick.  She will die.  He will visit friends.  I say maybe.  I ask him why.  He said because.  He has no family.  He is alone.  He said make up.  Be nice.  At least try it.  We talk about it.  I agree.  I will go home.  It's 11 years.

I remember it.  11 years.  I fight with my Mom.  We have a fist fight.  She is drunk.  I tell her fuck you.  Papa stops us.  Dishes are smashed.  Papa gets mad at her.  He tells her to control things.  She can't.  Soon I will go.  I take my clothes.  I think I can run away.  Vanished.  But I can't.  Why?  Papa is sick.  He will worry.  Each day is forever.  So instead I tell them.  Larissa moves out.  Papa begs me no.  I tell him I must.  He cries.  I tell him I call him.  I won't forget him.  He gives me money.  He sais please.  Be safe.  I sleep at a friends.  Then another.  Then a shelter.  Soon I find out from a girl.  I can strip.  It's good money.  I can get an apartment.  It's easy.  She can help me.  We can live together.  I remember I stripped.  The first time.  I am nervous.  Some look.  Others talk to their friends.  I don't know how.  Once you do it, it's easy.  But to make money?  Lap dance.  Your body on a mans.  He will try to kiss you.  Or put a finger in you.  Do you know?  Once you are in this.  It's tough to get out.  You can't leave so easy.  It's not like a regular job.  

Are you a parent?  You have a husband ?  Or wife?  Do they hit and drink?  You have a child?  Here is what I say.  Go.  Get out.  No matter how hard.  You love your child?  You will do it.  Or your child is Larissa part 2.  And my life?  It could be better.  Or much worse.  Young girls.  They are found by bad men.  They are lost.  The men pretend to care.  They get you on drugs.  You need it.  Then they make you work.  You are a whore.  But it's worse than my life.  I am a addict.  They are not.  For them it's worse.  You hate a bad date?  How about a bad pimp?  You don't make enough money?  He teaches you a lesson.  In a van or house you are raped.  If the blood comes out he won't care.  He hits you in the rape.  Then you go make more.  And if not enough, more rape.  More hitting.  More anger.  It's a circle.  Where will it end?  Maybe you can escape this life.  But I know.  You will be killed.  Or kill yourself.  Who will miss you?  No one.  You are missing.  No one knows you.  Or remembers you.  But each day is long.  This is your choice?   Go look at the SW. She is 40?  Her real age is 22.  Her life will end.  Too much coke.  Too much meth.  Drank herself to death.   

You think my life is bad?  I was lucky.  Lucky I write this today.  Lucky I have a Papa.  Lucky I have Marky.  Lucky for my future. 

For you?  The other person reading?  You hate us near your house?  I ask you this.  Do you think as a little girl I want this?  The butterflys in my hair?  I sit in the grass?  I think I will be a whore?  Do you think your daughter?  She is in high school.  She says when I graduate I am a whore?  No.  So don't forget us.  We are women.  We are victims.  Victims of many things.  Victims of anger.  Victims of hurt.  Victims of kneeglect.  You don't spit at us.  You help us.  Both women and men. 


For the pooner?  You imagine this.  You imagine it.  I am your daughter.  Now are you so rough?  Do you care now?  I am Larissa.  I am a daughter.  I am a friend.  I am a girlfriend.  For someone this is what I am.  You have this too.  I can be your daughter.  Or I can be your son too.  Young man become a toy for other men.  You think about it buddy.   I am a person.  I am not your doll.