Post Ardor. Post Apathy.

Okay, so, yeah, prostitution is wrong.

And drugs.

Don't worry, I do get it.

I mean, who doesn't know that? Who hasn't heard that a gagillion times? That drugs hurt your body… that prostitution is just as wrong.

But really, who cares? I mean, it's not like I'm alone! A thousand other dead beats are sleeping on the same dingy, dirt and puke encrusted subway floor.

It's not like I got myself here from getting touched too inappropriately by daddy dearest, and I was just so traumatized by that to try heroin…. meth, or dope. Honestly, I can't even remember the first drug I tried.

But anyway, I'm not about to lie and say "I'm addicted to every drug you ever could imagine because I had a horrible childhood". I mean, what bull.

I tried it 'cause I wanted to.

And I kept doing it. I don't really care anymore. It's not even fun now. It's just.…boring.
Mom does care though. It's why she threw me out.… 'cause apparently she can't stand to see me destroy myself anymore.

But, guess what mommy, I didn't need drugs to destroy myself. Or prostitution. Those were just bonuses to this lovely THC web of mine.

I don't bother to think of trying to stop, because it's not like I'm going to end up on Oprah, spilling out all my dirty little secrets and my childhood. I'd be lying. No one wants to hear that a fourteen year old girl tried a drug just 'cause she wanted to… That just wouldn't make a good Lifetime movie, would it?

Everyone wants drama. No bored, horny house wife wants to hear my story. Which is okay, 'cause it would just put nasty little thoughts into their perfect little children's heads.

Like I'm pretty sure this just did put some thoughts into yours.

Like, when you see me sitting on the floor, high out my mind, do you pity me? Or do you walk away, scrunching your nose at my sour milk smell? Or is it both?

Or maybe.… anger? Because, you know, I'm being a bad role model for your child as you take him to the zoo.

Who cares? He'll find your porn in the drawer anyway. So I'm not doing the bad thing here.

Because, honestly, it's not the people around us that makes us do bad things….it's the parents who think we're not brave enough to do them.