Down the Drain

Sometimes you have to say fuck it and throw your life down the drain just to see where you’ll come out on the other side. The most profound beauty emerges from the ashes of destruction. And by that, I mean that sometimes you have to burn your life to the ground in order to experience the life that is truly meant for you.

A profound sadness washes over me as I watch my friends bond with their moms, sharing everything from secret crushes to their dreams for the future.

I’m over it. I’m reclaiming my body and rejecting the notion that I exist only to be visually pleasing.

I shut my eyes and pray: “Please, God. Please send me a sugar daddy. I promise I’ll be so good. I’ll never do anything bad again.

Because the truth is, anyone who is someone first started out as a delusional dreamer.

I don’t have experience as a dominatrix but I certainly have some experience in hating men.

And by that, I mean that sometimes you have to burn your life to the ground in order to experience the life that is truly meant for you. It is in letting go that we are forced to carve our own destiny. We must be willing to relinquish all we once held dear if we are holding on with fear. If you believe in the power within yourself, anything is possible. Because the truth is, anyone who is someone first started out as a delusional dreamer.

it seems like he always has to be reading a few books at once. One isn’t enough to quiet the noise in his head.

The rest of the trip, I’m fuming. Did I seriously just wait sixteen hours to get slapped in the face in front of the dead pope? I didn’t even get to have a moment with him!

It is in letting go that we are forced to carve our own destiny. We must be willing to relinquish all we once held dear if we are holding on with fear. If you believe in the power within yourself, anything is possible.

When I see him using every bit of strength to inch his body close to mine, I am filled with a love so visceral, it could shatter the earth. I am his. And he is mine. It’s the kind of love that claws its way out of your gut, rips you apart, and puts you back together again. He is worth all the blood and pain, all the tears, and all the sleepless nights.

I’m forced to face the unsettling reality that the people who are supposed to protect us are sometimes the same people we need protection from.

They don't realize how much they mean to me. It's different for them since they have each other, but I don't have anyone

I pretend it doesn’t bother me, but it does. It isn’t fair that he can move on so fast while I’m left to do the emotional labor of picking up all the pieces.

it feels like she’s projecting her own limitations onto me. As I think to myself that my mom just doesn’t realize what I’m capable of, I can’t shake the feeling that I’m not good enough.

I begin to wonder if he can see me right now. What if when his soul rose to heaven, he caught a glimpse of me at this gay club with my tits out, taking pictures with a coked-up drag queen, surrounded by porn magazines.

I was ridiculed for being different and for doing whatever I had to do to survive. But now everyone is wearing latex.

I’ve been driving on the fine line between ultimate freedom and complete and utter loneliness. Some nights, if I’m too tired to drive, I pull over on the side of the road and watch the shooting stars from my sunroof until I fall asleep. My phone doesn’t have service out here, so I often have only the compass app to navigate. I get lost time and time again, but somehow I end up exactly where I need to be.

I start coming to the realization that there’s something wrong with this. It can’t be normal to feel everything at such an elevated state.

I'm miserable, but still, I can't let him go. When did he become both the hero and the villain in my story?

I wouldn’t be where I am today without the countless mistakes I made to get here. It’s okay to live with regret. It’s not okay to let it consume you. Sometimes you have to say fuck it and throw your life down the drain just to see where you’ll come out on the other side. The most profound beauty emerges from the ashes of destruction.

It feels like I’m in the passenger seat and this demon inside me is at the wheel and as I yell for it to stop, it slams on the pedal and next thing I know, I’m in a terrible predicament.

When I’m not with Trish, I go to the stores in the neighborhood to steal cute clothes for her. A tank top with a bedazzled Playboy bunny, a Von Dutch hat, bell-bottom jeans with suede ties on the front. I teach her how to steal so she can be self-sufficient and take better care of herself. The goal is to blend in with the private school girls. If people assume we’re rich, they won’t suspect us of stealing. I understand the power of appearance, and I see how rich people are regarded.

want to love him but I often find myself wishing he could just be an asshole all the time. This way I wouldn’t have all these inner battles with myself. I learn to navigate my way through shattered expectations and constant disappointments by putting an impenetrable wall up between us. Every time I let my guard down, I’m quickly reminded why my defenses were up in the first place. It’s nearly impossible for me to flourish in an inconsistent hostile environment, especially when my own growth is so intertwined with his. I’m forced to face the unsettling reality that the people who are supposed to protect us are sometimes the same people we need protection from. I slowly begin to scrub away at my femininity, which has proved to be unsustainable in this environment. “Man up! Don’t be a pussy!” my dad shouts at me as I cry. I have to be tougher. I have to be more independent. I have to be resilient. I have to be more like him.

I may have chosen the wrong partner for me, but I definitely chose the right father for our son. And that’s all that matters to me.

It feels like I played the lottery and got every number right except the very last one, instantly crushing any faith I had in life.

My dad treats books like an escape. He gets lost in the pages of the books he reads, and it seems like he always has to be reading a few books at once. One isn’t enough to quiet the noise in his head.

I realize that part of this job is reading between the lines; I have to know what they want before they've even come to terms with it. I understand this secret to this trade.

I sit in the darkness of Andrew’s small studio apartment, rereading my text conversations with Gianna, scrolling through old photos, watching the videos on my phone of us play-fighting. In one clip I chased her down my hallway and blocked the doorway so she wouldn’t go home. I wish I could teleport back to that moment and live there for the rest of my life.

I want to love him but I often find myself wishing he could just be an asshole all the time. This way I wouldn’t have all these inner battles with myself. I learn to navigate my way through shattered expectations and constant disappointments by putting an impenetrable wall up between us. Every time I let my guard down, I’m quickly reminded why my defenses were up in the first place.