I watched her being beaten. I watched her fighting him off. I watched him rip her clothes, force her down and, ultimately, force himself upon her.
I watched it
and I did nothing
in my own house.
I can't even remember her fucking name.
People were grabbing and yelling and hitting others and chaos was in full effect. There were way too many people in that block and too many unstable emotions mixing.
The after pain of the cut was sort of therapeutic. A constant reminder that the pain I was feeling was real. That I was still there - I could still feel. And the thing is - I had control of that pain. I could decide how much to cut, when to do it, where on my body and when it would stop. It was the only thing in my life I had control over. It was my goto drug for many, many years.
Julie and I put on our Girl Scout uniforms and decided to go door-to-door collecting for "Unicef". Cuz we wanted money to buy something stupid that I don't even remember.
I know, without a doubt that everyone will fuck you. Every One. I don't care who you are.
Don't get me wrong, aside from the dark and dirty secrets, my grandparents were good to me, they provided well for me, and I loved them because they were all I had and I knew no different. They were FAR better than the alternative of growing up with the people who gave birth to me.
I was so convinced that clowning was what I wanted to do, I made my parents take me to the Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey Clown College when we went to Florida for vacation. I was going to join the circus!