If that stupid money deal does happen I will invest it wisely.
Even if I must continue having to get high I will never be in this scummy situation again.
This drought has stopped me having the consolation of what I want. But the money thing – desperation that is self inflicted on everyone's part – has left me feeling a cold, empty shell. Once I did not have the hard look in the eyes associated with women who sell sex. I have it now, I've seen it in the mirror and someone confirmed it last week by looking at me. I don't like it to be obvious what I am or do, but I am getting that cold, stony expression on my face. I am trying to stay sane while keeping my heart.........not easy to do both under these circumstances. Self inflicted most of it may be, but I don't think I deserve all of it. In an ideal world we could have what we wanted without being criminals in debt.....but this is not an ideal world.
I sometimes feel swallowed by the void – the dull ache I feel is turns into a stabbing pain at times. I cannot have what I need to make it go away, and I'll give anything to kill, numb it.
The carefree, highly sexed party girl of last year, who was relieved to get out of an abusive relationship and be who she wanted, is a shadow of her former self.
Somebody knows now I will be no good to him or anyone else if I wind up either dead or in the madhouse. To love something only to watch it break.....to paraphrase the 'Doll Parts' song. I find myself living that song again and again, but in this shit it is more apt than ever. Some jerks call up ask me what size exactly my boobs are, all they want to know about is what I look like. I might as well be a rubber doll. Doing that for money is not really even sex, it is so cold, it is....nothing. It's weird because I can't say I hate doing it, under reasonable circumstances the payback can be worth dealing with idiots and making a few lonely men happy. I can show genuine warmth and friendliness and compensate for what they lack elsewhere. But these are not reasonable circumstances.
The fuck up has been mutual – but I get the blame and am punished. Deep down he is hurting as much as me and macho bravado is a way of coping with it. The jokes about me being for hire are a way of making light of the rotten situation, not making light of me. I can't always see it that way when I risk my life to earn him money to stay alive plus pay his debts. And I must live myself but I am barely scraping together. He is truly sorry about the times he has been mean, and I get promised this hell will soon be over – we'll have what we want again, the pressure to earn will subside, it's the end of the month people get paid soon and droughts don't last forever either.
I can take little more. He does not want me walking the streets for money – I no longer have a choice if the phone is dead and I am penniless. I simply ask that he be there if he wants some of what I get, and I don't need pressure, being ignored as a consequence of lack of money etc. He needs emotional support but finds me unable to give it if I am stressed. I explained that being stressed, not being able to help but talk endlessly and do his head in etc is a result of intolerable conditions. His stress rubs off on me as I am a sponge who absorbs other people's feelings, good or bad. I explained if we are nice to other the situation would not be so intolerable, we are both in the same situation and it is self inflicted on both sides to an extent. He'll try to stop taking things out on me, cos I am no good to anyone when I'm ill and going out of my mind.
Feeling like a piece of dirt inside is a horrible feeling, a stain that cannot be removed. It was perhaps not right of me to take it personally, but cold sex with strangers leaves me unfufilled, I need affection to take it away. He stayed over a few times this week but didn't have the energy to go all the way with me. There were reasons, he feels fucked up....but on Monday I thought it was because of what I do, because I am dirty, I felt rejected as well as all else.
I understand he wanted some company – but last night he brought a friend of his round with him while I went out and attempted to earn. This guy was a total stranger to me. I felt ill at ease, awkward, even if he wasn't judgemental I prefer to meet people under happier conditions than that. On top of this, the guy was a weedhead. It was raining outside – the cops are out and about when it rains as there isn't much crime about then. I got pulled and had to go home. Alex had showed up with Mary as well, not really expecting to see Jason there but on the off chance I'd be in.
Everyone was stoned on weed in the lounge. I could have killed him because he hadn't opened the window as I'd at least asked, I broke down as I'd had a shit night. To find a room of people out their heads on what drives me psychotic, especially with the fumes in the lounge again.......
At least he knows now that me and that shit do not mix, I had to spell it out a second time. He is sorry, he told me deep down he is hurting, hates this situation as much as I do, hates me having to do what I do and relying on that for an income.
Why can men be so insensitive? He kept saying to his pal how great the joints were, for only a tenner you get a room of people 'fucked'. I sobbed that I was fucked but not in the way they were. I felt fucked after standing in the rain and being hassled by cops, on top of lacking drugs and money. Getting 'stoned' is not an option for me - I can only get high on hard drugs or benzos and booze or get psychotic on grass. Wish that shit could work for me but it cannot, I want to avoid the fate of death or the madhouse.
And avoid them I will, it has been hard but I will weather this storm. He has pressure to, can't be nice to be pressured for money by hard crims and watch a woman you're intimate with do what I do to keep you both alive.
What a fuck up this has turned into. If there is any lesson to this it is be careful of excess. I know I will - I just hope he can.
3 years ago