VI: We Were the Lucky Ones

Sometimes, if I concentrate hard enough, I can make myself believe that none of this ever happened to me.

But then I see a part of myself – my hand, my leg…something. And then it all comes rushing back. It seems as though every time I see a part of myself, I see a part of where I’ve been right behind it. It lingers in the background of me. My (now former) boyfriend, Jeremy, standing above me, a pan coming toward my head. Or Ashley, under the stairwell in the warehouse district. Delivery gone so, so bad.

It’s hard to keep from laughing at people when they say things like, “You are what you let yourself be.” Or, “your life is what you make it.” Because, sometimes, we don’t have a choice. We don’t have room to decide whether or not someone is going to smash a fist into us, or take us somewhere and leave us there. People who say such things are people who’ve never had to see things the way some of us have. They didn’t have to make the choices that we had to make.

Yes. I’m saying it. They don’t understand.

It sounds childish and cliché but it’s true.

Things weren’t always bad, you know. There were summers in the mountains of Colorado, trips to Galveston, sleepovers and high school. Sometimes, things were normal.

You, the ones who didn’t have to decide whether or not you would give someone a blowjob in order to secure a safehouse, or didn’t have to decide whether or not you’d help beat someone… you who didn’t have to… you’re not the lucky ones.

We were the lucky ones.


  1. GEO says:


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s