Stayed up all night taking to Yazmin. 
And we both spoke about our lives in depth. 
And it really helped me because I felt as if I was in a funk today. 
Ah man, but I have been in a funk ever since I came back to the United States. 
It's as if my anxiety waited for me right at the gate. 
As if Jo was. 
I toldher the story line of my life. 
And it has made me realize a lot of things. 
I know why everything happened now. 
I remember when the outpatient program at the Sutter Hospital told me that I wasn't depressed and that my parents didn't want to admit that they were at fault. 
And I had been sent there because I was kicked out of rehab. 
Because they decided that I wasn't an alcoholic. 
But just depressed. 
Because they found out that I was cutting myself on my thigh. 
And no one would know due to the location. 
But it bled through my pants that day. 
And as we leave the hospital, my mother asks me if I was ever sexually abused when I was younger. 
And I got so fucking mad at her. 
Because I thought she and my father were the problem. 
And I thought then about how I gave Dylan Mötley head at the side of my house every day. 
But I thought that was funny. 
And it's funny to think of that now because that was the second time I was molested. 
Or the second person. 
That was many many times with Dylan. 
Counting to twelve Mississippis. 

But Yaz told me that she loved the way that I told the story because it was so introspective, and I really know how and why everything happened. 

I feel like I can accept and have no regret for these things now. 
Because I see where I am now. 
And I'm okay. 
I don't belong in that life style. 
And I was so afraid that I did. 
Because I was molested so much, and I couldn't even remember it. 
But I remember sitting with myself. 
And thinking. 
I know that something happened to me when I was young. 
But I can't remember it. 
I knew that I had repressed memories. 
I actually wrote about it years ago in this journal. 

And the way I was so brainwashed from
New Leaf Academy. 
I mirrored the way I treated myself to the way I was treated. 
I used men for sex. 
I became a drug addict. 
A prostitute. 
I would beat myself up and gave myself black eyes. 

And they prophesized that. 
My father prophesized that. 
They told me I would. 
And it gave me so much anxiety and fear that it was inevitable. 
That I got it out of my system. 
I had to see if I belonged because I thought it was so true. 

And I remember when I told my mother that I lost my virginity at thirteen. 
And she told me that sex is meant for love. 
And I told her that I thought the opposite. 
Sex is a selfish, degrading, and dirty act. 
And I don't want to love the people I had sex with. 
It was power to me. 
Because I had my power taken from me. 
The first sexual act was in daycare. 
With a black boy named Jamie. 
I was so nervous. 
The teacher walked in before much could happen. 

And after the repressed memories coming about this year. 
And accepting that what happened with Brian and his brother was rape. 
And after being bled dry by Bryan. 
Loving him so. 
And receiving very little back. 
A boy that would hit me quicker than he'd have sex with me. 
Though we lived and slept together every night. 

I am here going to the other extreme. 
Lonely Young Little. 
But I am okay and patient with that.  

And I can now understand why I was so disconnected to my body. 
I did not grow up with pride for it. 
The molestations. 
And when I was thirteen, and Sasha ce out about my father talking shit about me. 
Picking me up from school "Oh, fat girl coming through."
And "Morgan's ass is too small, and Masha's is too big." 

And I knew it. 
I knew I was a fat chortle slob bod. 
And I hated it. 
I had no pride nor respect for the thing. 
I never really had much purity, that's quite true. 
I didn't get much time before I thought sexually. 
I remember being ten years old in fifth grade being excited for when I would start having sex. 

I understand how everything happened now. 
And years from now,
I'll look back at these present moments and will understand them much more than I ever could now. 

And Yaz and I talked about how her bulimic friend has this "man" in her head that yells at her if she eats. 
And it was insane to hear because I've never heard of anyone other than Grace with Jess in her head. 
And it felt kind of good to hear because I knew that I wasn't mad when it came to Jo. 
And now I understand Jo. 
The poisonous self hatred. And when we ran away to San Fransisco and prostituted, that was me giving into Jo.
As if I said "Fine! I give up fighting you, have at it. 
I will listen to you now and will do as you say." 
And when I moved to Santa Cruz and quit drugs and sex and a of those horrible people, it drove her mad. 
Jo hated my respect and fought me for it.
But I was severely bulimic. 
And she still had me there so much. 

It mostly turned to anorexia. 
But I was bullemic every time I fucked up. 
But at some point, my stomach was so horrible that I simply couldn't eat. 
A couple frozen strawberries, and my day was filled. 
I lived in my bed for months. 
Unable to ever fully wake. 
And when I was straight bedridden for one month. 
I couldn't move. 
Even sleeping was painful because moving in my sleep would wake me. 
My organs were screaming. 
I kept throwing up and throwing up. 
I didn't want to give up. 
But I became afraid of dying. 
And so I stopped for a week until I got better. 
And then went right back. 
And Elizabeth asked me if I was on meth. 
Because I became so thin. 
And she was a meth head, herself. 
And my hair was falling out so much. 
I had to do a combover. 

But it was power to me. 
When I started to become thin,
Boys started to find me beautiful. 
And I controlled and destroyed them more. 

I threw up this week. 
Which is unsettling. 
I haven't done it in so long. 
The last time was in Italy, so about a month ago. 
And before that, it was when I had first moved to Ny. 
I would say that I am mostly over bullemia. 
Anorexia is still something that I am having a hard time with. 
But I do go to the gym again. 
I have for two weeks, and I feel stronger mentally and physically. 
Drug addiction has been long gone. 
I drink every day, but it's due to my lifestyle and too much free time. 
And I don't care to drink every day. 
But it is what we're all doing for the night. 

Ah, four in the morning, I must sleep. 
To wake at 7am tomorrow. 
I am sleeping at the Waldorf Astoria. 
Had dinner at The Russian Tea Room. 
Free breakfast tomorrow.
But this is all due to spending time with Clarita's mother. 
And Yaz has her art show at Pratt tomorrow. 
I feel much more positive now. 
And I feel like I'm okay. 

I feel like I have a lot of psychological things going on with myself right now, and this is a big part as to why I have no interest in men at the moment. 
It is why I am so enveloped in myself. 
And I need to be. 
Because I want to be aware of what's going on with myself so that I care for myself and maintain respect. 


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