02.08.03
Spring 1998
--------- Fall 99... -Time for yet another tale of what led up to the state of my current life... Ready? Too bad, this is MY diary. So, where we last left off, our heroine -Scarydoll- was just arriving at the end of her figurative rope. Spending my days all spaced out on painkillers and wondering when I could once again hit the road... My mother was getting better. Surgery had proven effective, removing NINE tumors from somewhere in her pelvic region. Slowly, she regained enough competence in her daily routine that I could feel the urge to leave without guilt. Not so fast, Scarydoll, your grandmother (who practically raised you) just broke her hip and is now in need of care. Do not pass go. Do not collect $200. And so I moved in with my Mamaw and found myself as housebound as she. My days and nights were wrapped in constant service - and mind you, I cared so much for her that I didn't resent anything about my situation - but I wasn't used to being confined without the relief of drugs or alcohol... I cooked, cleaned, and occasionally lifted her small frame into my car for her therapy visits. I loved her so much. It was too much for a stupid stupid stupid girl like myself to handle and as soon as my mother was up and around again, we both moved to her house. Mom took over the care of Mamaw, and left me free to pursue other interests. Looking back, after the death of my grandmother last year, I wish - I wish - I wish that I had spent more time with her. Talking to her. Being with her. But instead, I decided to go back to college. Content with the fact that I could use my studies as an excuse to hang out all night with my friends. I did. Needless to say, I failed all but one class that semester. On the weekends, I visited Noah & got unbelievably fucked up on our weekend trips to festivals. Soon, I was making huge transactions between states, running pounds of bud between NC and Atlanta. While I was in Georgia, I started hanging out with Danny. Danny was a manager at Hooters, and his house was often filled with the Hooters girls & various drugs. Not that all girls that work at Hooters are drunken sluts, but there are a lot that are! Anyways, Danny was good to me and we became good friends. He was a black guy with incredible dread locks & I thought he was quite attractive. I had only dated one other black guy in my life and found that he had been one of those 'gangster types' who referred to me as his 'bitch', and I consequently HATED him. But Danny was different. He treated me like a fucking queen. That is, until this one night (when I had consumed enough ecstasy & xanax to become a walking zombie) and I lay down on his bed, snuggling in my own drug-induced coma. Flashes of him on top of me, me naked from the waist down, and my mental protests are all I can remember from that night. The next morning I awoke still naked in his bed with him passed out beside me. I grabbed my clothes off the floor and stumbled out through his living room where scores of Hooters sluts were sleeping... Outside, at least 15 cars were parked along the street next to his house. I chain-smoked and cried the entire way to my mother's house. Angry & confused. Had I consented to the sex? Had I, in my fucked up state, came on to him? And what is more fucked up is that I tried to justify what had happened as "just one of those things". After the initial shock had worn off, I again started hanging out at his house occasionally, though I often felt sick when I saw him. ------------- Then came Evan, a little punk-rocker boy who seemed to be all but obsessed with me. His girlfriend Danette didn't share his feelings about me. It was weird though; I used to go over to their house to hang out with him all the time. He and I would spend hours talking and joking. She would make herself scarce when I was there. Evan wasn't so much into drugs so he wasn't a whole lot of fun for me to hang out with at the time. Plus I had a suedo-boyfriend-type thing living in another state. (Noah) One night he called me to pick him up. He and Danette had a huge fight and he was intent on buying a hotel room to stay at. I drove him there and came inside. That night, I fucked his brains out. Ha. They got back together the following day & I never said another word about it. I heard a few months later that he got his ass beat outside of a club and ended up with two broken arms. -------------- At New Year's, I was determined to go to Phish's Big Cypress shows. Noah and I arrived there with about 25 sheets of "blue velvet", which we cut into 5 strips and sold all weekend for $20 bucks a pop. Ah... I fucking banked at those shows... Coming back to Atlanta with almost $5,000... in my back pocket. While I was there, I ran into LJ, the guy who ripped me off the past spring. The same guy whose girlfriend, Alison, died in that hotel room. Noah was there with me, and tried to start a fight with him. I stopped Noah from beating his ass because he appeared annoyingly fucked up and belligerent. I said to LJ that Karma would come back to him for what he had done to me & he laughed, saying that I was lucky that him and his friend's didn't fucking kill me for being such a bitch. Hmmmm.... on a side note, LJ overdosed two weeks later and died. Karma? I don't know. ----------- When I got back home, I called my friend De to pick me up at the bus station, and proceeded to blow almost all my money in about a week and a half. De was really into the rave-scene. I had been to a handful of them, but it wasn't the same enviornment that I had grown accustomed to on tour with Phish. The kids there were different. No one tried to hide behind a "kind" persona... Everyone seemed fucking ruthless... So I just started to generally enjoy the drugs that were so plentiful at each party. Soon, I found it easier to make money with ecstasy than anything else & raves were where I could make the quickest money. This is how I met BF. He was a friend of both De and Adam, whom I have mentioned before. He was sooo fucking cute, and funny, and cute, and smart, and CUTE - It was instant LOVE. And this is where my life started to finally turn around. TO BE CONTINUED... |
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