Happiness For A Pessimist

Four Years Later.

It wasn't suppose to be this way. I wasn't suppose to turn out like this. I'm pathetic, John wouldn't even want to associate with me if he knew the things I've done. I laid in the hotel bed with a thin sheet covering my bruised, naked body. I watched as my last client re-dressed himself attempting to look presentable to go home to his family. Like he didn't just have sex with some random boy. I could feel tears prick my eyes as he exited the room. I turned onto my back and looked up at the ceiling. I hated what I've done with myself.

Why did I have to be so stupid and leave. I could of stayed home with John and live a happily ever after, I could of been happy. Instead I chose to run away somewhere completely foreign to me. When I left Arizona I took a greyhound to California, I ended up in L.A with nowhere to go, no where to turn to. I found this guy, maybe about 23. He took me in to his home and told me he'd help me out. At the time I didn't know he meant I'd live with him for a price. At the moment I didn't know I voluntarily signed myself up to live with an abusive man.

At first he treated me so nicely, he made me feel special and important. I ended up falling for him, of course I never loved him, I could only love John. But I started to like Griffin, a lot. It was three months later that the real Griffin was exposed. It started with a few slaps here and there and eventually escalated into something much more. Something worse.

I lived with Griffin for one year and six months. I endured his deathly beatings and long painful nights that still bring me nightmares. Once I gained the courage to leave him, I headed up to Washington which is where I am now. When I arrived to Washington I was completely hopeless, secretly I wished someone would open their door to me, but it was simply wistful thinking. I was homeless for a few months until one night I found myself walking down a shadier part of town. A guy pulled up in his car and rolled down the window eyeing me up and down. I understood exactly what he wanted so I gave him a seductive smirk. "200." was enough to get me in the backseat of his car.

After that night I began to whore myself out for money. I was able to rent a small apartment an buy myself new clothes. I never spent my money on food, I still found eating a struggle for me. There were many times I've fainted, sometimes when I was with clients or sometimes when I'm walking down the street. But it was something I was use too. I learned that getting tattoos helps, I'm always saving my food money for tattoos.

I finally pulled myself off the dirty bed and dressed in my tank top and cut off jeans. I grabbed my phone and the money the man left me and placed it in my jean pocket before leaving. I walked down the streets heading to my apartment. I walked past shops and buildings finally arriving to my brick apartment. I ran up the stair case leading to the 3rd floor and opened my apartment entering the comfy confinement.

I headed to the bathroom and stripped off my clothes before stepping into the shower. I took a quick short short before getting out and dressing in some pajamas. I brushed and blow dried my hair before stepping in front of my full sized mirror. I ran my fingers over my torso feeling the fat seep through. I've grown taller than I was a few years ago, almost reaching 6 feet.

Everything night I log onto the internet and check up on John and his band. It seems like he gets even more famous over night. I always see photos of him, noticing he looks stressed free and happy. It makes me believe that I was the one bringing them down.

It was always just me.