The (Not So) Secret Life Of A 40 Year Old Hooker

Let me start off by saying, I did NOT intend for my life to end up where I am today. Hell no! I had big dreams for myself, still do in fact. Maybe that’s why I’m here writing this? Why the hell would anyone want to hear my loser story? But the thing is, the stuff I’ve been through, although bizarre, is relatable to a certain extent, so I feel anyway. I mean, I’m not one to beat around the bush, and I have a terrible habit of being, well… blunt. Like, stop the conversation cold blunt. Either that or I say nothing, usually getting screwed over in the process. I can’t seem to find a healthy balance, so I’m left with writing as a last resort to protect myself. Face to face “combat” is too hard, writing is safe, I’m here in my room, nobody can see me. I’m alone with my thoughts.

Those thoughts are that, I’m a forty one year old, “single” woman from “good blood” as such, I’m intelligent, quite raw I guess and want to do good in the world, to ensure whatever I leave behind is beautiful to at least ONE soul, at least my life would count for something. My daughter is thirteen, an impressionable age, and here I am, after giving up the party life when she was three to ensure she didn’t walk my path, back on the game. Only this time, it’s to survive, not because I’m partying.

How the f**k did I get here??!!

I’ll fill it all in as I go…

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