I will never know how I survived my life – only that I did. Many times, I think that the only reason is that I throw away feelings.
I became the living dead, and then I was able be alive enough to somehow find a future.
When I was a child, a time before I knew much, I think I may have had feelings like any other child.
I may have cried, I may of laughed, I may have felt pain, I may of enjoy being loved.
I may have been a child like any other child. I really can’t remember.
When people say prostitution is harm-free, I tell you it never is. It steals memory.
This is important to survive the tortures that are the norms of prostitution – but good memories are stolen as well.
I know in my childhood, in my teens and in my twenties, I had many good times, I just can never remember them.
I know one of the reason I am alive now, is because there times I love living, times of joys small and big, times where I had love without any demands. I know these give the fierce will to live.
I know they were there, but I can feel nothing about them.
That is what having many years of sadistic sex, having all brainwashing and being continually degraded does to you.
Feelings are thrown out the window.
I lost the ability to know pain.
I see what men did to me with detachment, and think that must have hurt so damned much – I imagine I can touch some of the pain if I say it is a movie. I feel slow small pieces of pain, and then my body closes it out.
Pain comes out now as sickness. I get flu symptoms, I am constantly sick to my stomach, my whole left side is in agony, I find walking hard, I get hazy eyesight. But still I cannot feelings to this sickness.
I was tortured until all pain was deaden. I was tortured until I thought that all I was, a hole for men to fuck.
I could not feel fear.
Fear comes when you can see an exit, fear is the underside of hope.
It is unsafe for the average prostituted woman and girl to feel fear.
Fear can kill you when you are prostituted.
If many johns see fear in a prostitute’s eye, he see that as a green light to do more sadistic porn acts on her.
I knew showing fear made them fuck you with more force, made them beat you more, made them laugh at your terror, encourage them to film that moment of fear, made them want to owned and torture you for longer.
Fear was a luxury I could not have.
No, I learnt to deaden that fear and turn it into smiles and saying how good it was – I was relatively safe then.
I could not feel sadness. That was dead to me.
I did not grieve when my grandmother die. I could not feel when my best friend/lover committed suicide. I never notice pets going.
I was too dead inside, to feel grief.
Now, the sorrow overwhelms me. I am drowning in grief, grief that my life was stolen from me.
Now, I am going slowly into feelings.
I do not know the rules and the routes of feelings.
I stand in the middle of emotions that I cannot recognise and try to own them. I feel clueless, but I will try I place these feelings inside me.