In a drunken state, I can do most anything. Mostly, I like to take my clothes off and have unprotected sex. I look at the bottles I hide in my attic room, the empty vile of pills misused and the hopes dashed by my own hands of never being able to find an Oxy dealer in Concord. I look and think about all these things and ask my addiction:
‘What is it about you that makes me act like this? I’ve never been this nasty!’
I know my own answer. The late nights at bars, the early morning hour awakenings to ‘who the fuck are you and how did you get in here?’
I have attempted sobriety countless times. If for no other reason than to lose a few pounds and smile for the camera. Big Girl in Bikini, season is coming up, after all.
My birthmother by all estimation is a two dollar whore who is willing to give the customer change. My birth-sista’s are both as fucked up as the world I live in. Living day to day.
Passing out and Coming to
Hoping the next Step Daddy down in Texas doesn’t want to make them his ‘little girls’.
I know in my ill fitted heart of hearts, I am and out an out drunk. Before, Mum took me off Facebook I had a full charge of the knowledge and whereabouts of my kin. Their relative’s page reads something like a Manhattan phonebook, sista and sista and sista galore. One bad seed can produce so many more ignited in stupidity plants and bad shrubbery. Gabby, the youngest sister cries out for help. Dad is touching me here, he’s poking me there…
I sit, or used to, at my electronic devices galore, paid for by the Adopt-A-Parents and wonder, ‘duh, Gabby what did you think would change?’
She does drugs, fucks and applauds indifference like I do. The gene pool for the Blast family didn’t even get a chance at a shake and a stir. We just keep coming out of the cest pool like the mighty white folks we are.
This is where the addiction comes in. I just know it. Had I any real balls, had I any real dimension: I would not be sitting around taking nude self-portraits of myself and popping a Mike’s Hard Lemonade. If the blood is indeed as thick as the stink the envelops my soul, I’d be down South fighting for those who are mine.
The booze and pills remind me I belong to no one. And, it is there I shall remain: Constantly fascinated by Step Daddy number 10 and his ability to take the innocence away and in awe of my own spine without bone.
