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Vancouver

Love Child

One Love
What happened in Vancouver?

Where do I begin? How do I begin? I used to know how to write. Not anymore.

Sometimes Dr Dave sends me things in the mail, and I think it is awesome. As a joke I said I would send pages from my diaries when I was a teenager. (It sounded like a good idea). Of course none of my journals were near me so I had to go searching in storage for them. That I did-when I had to go there for some dishes as well.

I began to read the pages and I realized some things are better left, un read, or re-read. I wrote them once and they helped me then, they will not help me now. I did learn some positive things however, about myself. Even then I was yearning for a simpler life and to live off the land. I had not realized I had such a dream even then. I used to set goals for myself, 5 year, 10 year even and then make daily, weekly, monthly charts to work towards those goals. That is pretty cool. Even at a young age, my first diary, I realized I only wrote when I was angry or upset. At that age I had told myself to write happy memories so that I could read back one day and re-live those as well.

Another thing I realize with my poetry and others is before one has sex-the poetry actually seems to be much better. After we have sex not so much. Yes people who have had sex are great poets-I am just saying that somethings young people write are really really good, and once the relationships get in the way, the focus is lost perhaps. But I would never deny someone a sexual relationship in turn for good poetry!
 
She was a waitress.

I was a hostess. I had moved to Vancouver after school in attempt to avoid "moving back home" after a year of college. The memory and time frame are hazy to me. Or I mean the reasons. Perhaps I did not have enough money to return to school. I believe I had lost grant money due to my grades. So then later I found out most of my cousins, who went on to be successful, flunked their first year of school as well. It helps to let others know so that we are not trying to live up to this high expectation of those that have gone before us. Well once that was determined I got settled in and began my new life.

I hunted for jobs, joined youth groups (I was still a youth technically) I think it was actually a young adults group I joined. I was hosting at this restaurant and I decided also to begin attending the community college a couple days a week. I lived closer to some of my friends, one from college, one from high school, so we visited often.

Things were going pretty good.

Then one night I had a dream, a nightmare actually. I woke up the people I lived with. It was quite embarrassing and slightly frightening as well. I woke them up screaming. I realized everything was not all right. I needed to go back to counseling and deal with the things my father did to me when I was 8. Well, okay, we can do that. Even then I knew it was coming, I just didn't know when. I was in a safe place to deal with it, (I thought) and added that to my list of things to do during the week.

One particular visit she had me re-count the things my father did to me. I had not done that with anyone up to this time. I was pretty raw after. I believe I was pretty vulnerable and not given the proper tools to heal from that session, or any from her for that matter.

This is not to say I don't make my own decisions or haven't made my own choices, because I have. I just know there are other things that happened during this time that may have contributed to other things happening.

(I am editing myself here as I imagine reaction from others, so I am just going to continue to write as if I weren't writing for anyone else, just myself) I suppose LOL this is a fucking forum, a troll one at that (at one time) anyway

There is a reason for putting this here. This is the badlands, where everything has always been laid out, raw, nothing to hide. I don't need to go to a private secret forum and post this either.

I wanted to post it before, but I wasn't ready.

After opening up those boxes with my journals and reading some things i had forgotten, I realized it is better to get it out. Don't hold it in. Because it definitely was in my mind.
 
I could go see a counselor again. I had to after that asshole Josh Powell killed both of his sons with hatchets, then set his house on fire. For some reason that particular story haunted me. I hear stories all day long in the news and don't get bent out of shape the way I did with this one. It almost seems a shame. Anyway, the difference with the Powell story is the history with his father, his wife and the kids. There seems to be a long long history of manipulation, deception and control.

So anyway, I went to a counselor after that, and told her what was up. She was really nice and told me I could see her in a month if I wanted, but that I was okay, and just reacting. She gave me some good tools to deal with this type of thing. It worked.
 
The night I went missing they called my father.
My uncle drove around town looking for me.

After I left the house I was in, I went to school, naturally. I had class right, so I better go. I got stopped by a police car, he said to me, "Your family is looking for you" "You better give them a call"

I found a phone booth and I called my best friend and I said, "I think I am in trouble"

I am not sure what happened next. She may have came and got me and took me home. My mother drove down, we went to the hospital, an examination was done and I was given 3 pills. Even though I told them I wouldn't be pregnant.

After the long night in the hospital and talking to a cop, who was less than sympathetic, I mean after all I was a runaway and an adult (Just barely 18) and I made/make my own choices.
"You don't want to prosecute anyone in this case, because the judge and jury will be just as tough on you as these guys were" He said, in front of me and my relatives. "they will look at the fact that you went over there yourself and were not forced, you really don't want to go through all of that"
 
Yeah, I don't really want to go through all that. Plus the guy told me he was friends with high up in the city. I believed him at that time. I thought that definitely I did not have a case.
 
It must have just been something stupid I did, a decision I made. Something I should not have done. My boyfriend at the time, who was in the air force called me and thought or said, "Am I not enough for you?!" "That you went else where looking for affection?"
 
I was a virgin before that night. I truly was going to save myself for marriage, for the guy who was in the military, waiting for me, me for him.
 
I waited their table often. Perhaps I was a waitress as well, if I remember right I was only a hostess, but that was fine by me because I got paid $1 more than waitresses and they gave me tips when I bused their tables, so I did all right.

These people had been in before. Sometimes 2 guys and a women, sometimes just the 2 guys. They always smelled of cologne, which I liked, but it was kind of strong also. I never really knew who the lady was with, she seemed to sit in the center of both of them. (Perhaps, if I am remembering correctly).

They hadn't been in for a while, and I made notice of it. He liked that, but of course, he was good at what he did.
 
He also liked how "sweet" and "innocent" I appeared to be.

We had chocolates for the upcoming easter holiday. I brought some to thier table.

This is who I was, nice, sweet, to almost everyone. I was raised that way, it was in my nature, I just was.

I was not completely naive however

because there was another customer in the restaurant who came in and he gave me the creeps. He even asked me out, but it was a really really strange way of doing it-and it just didn't sit right with me. I mentioned it to one of the other waitresses and she told me the guy is a creep and has asked everyone of the waitresses out. (but wait! Maybe she was jealous!) Just kidding.
So anyway, I know my meter was not completely broken-I just know that this particular guy had gained my trust somehow.
 
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