diaries of a "troubled" young woman
“I tell Tyler, Marla Singer doesn't need a lover, she needs a case worker.” -Fight Club, Chuck Palahniuk
Beauty queen of only eighteen
She had some trouble with herself
He was always there to help her
She always belonged to someone else
I drove for miles and miles and wound up at your door
I've had you so many times but somehow I want more
I don't mind spending every day
Out on your corner in the pouring rain
Look for the girl with the broken smile
Ask her if she wants to stay a while
And she will be loved
Baby Groupie
1:53 AM (0 minutes ago)
to me
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It has been almost two weeks since the decision to end my life. Not my real life, per se, just life as I had previously known before.
I seemed to do everything right, on the surface. However, my chest grew with more sorrow seemed to cave in on itself day by day. My depression, once thought of as seasonal, followed me through the season change like a shadow on the ground, unshakably paired with my physical body, incapable of being outrun.
I didn’t know what to expect when I manically packed my car and drove cross-country to Las Vegas. It was a little like dying. I realized that living day by day in my childhood bedroom was a slow suicide that would kill me & take too long to do so. I desired a method a little quicker to suit my needs.
It is of my belief the love of my life is a permanent resident of the purgatory realm of human existence known as Las Vegas. His name is Hunter Biden. I assure you, dear reader, he would never have to spend a single dollar on hookers or pornstars ever again. I am his wife. & I am looking for him everywhere. As someone who has also escaped rehab several times before I can fix him and heal his sorrow. (If only he would let me)
White lines, pretty daddy, go skiing You snort it like a champ, like the winter we’re not in
Lana Del Rey, Florida Kilos
Upon arrival, I checked myself into rehab for the weekend to cool off from the journey which had left me exhausted. (I use my insurance card like a credit card on hotels and lodging I don’t have to pay back. If you know me you would know this. Some people are born to a wonderful large family who welcomes them in their homes. Others are not so lucky...)
I slept for the weekend, perfectly sedated. But something from within was compelling me to move forward with my journey. I could really only stomach one more group without yelling at everyone to go do something more productive with their lives and checking out to stay at the hotel/casino. (I don’t believe in therapy. I think some people are beyond help and perpetuate their own suffering. Psychiatry is a for-profit industry)
The STRAT hotel and casino welcomed me like an old friend would. On the drive to Las Vegas, I could see the faces of my ancestors of the great American plain in the natural rock formations. I knew that this land was welcoming me home, and had been calling to me for some time now. The spirit of the Las Vegas valley hugged me and told me she would never let me go. She had been waiting for my arrival for years.
I believe gambling was invented by God to punish the sinners. It’s why many casinos you see in the United States are located within Native American reservations. They know this.
By my second night I was ready to hit the strip. I dressed up in a white skirt and a black 3/4th sleeve shirt to go to the Paris casino to find nice wealthy men to sleep with me before I quietly go take a swim into the eternal ocean. (It has been over two years since I last had sex and I’m not going to die a virgin. I refuse.)
The Paris hotel bar offered me no luck. The waitress thought I was a hooker and told me to go away. I had a strange feeling walking around the casino. I had been there last as a child. It is unrecognizable today. It was as if my childhood existed in an alternate dimension, and I’m living in a new one where everything is a *little* different but nothing is the same.
I refuse to believe this is reality. I deny my eyes and ears and senses. I turn within only to find the truth within global chaos. Within has the answer.
“I tell Tyler, Marla Singer doesn't need a lover, she needs a case worker.”
Fight Club, Chuck Palahniuk
The loneliness hits me, and all the fear as well as I walk through Planet Hollywood. I begin to find a spot to cry. Onlookers survey me. Men ask me if I’m okay. I tell them yes, thank you, and they move on.
There is something inside of me that tells me I need to meet someone very important tonight.
Ask and you shall receive, as the old adage goes. However, what was to come was not quite what I was asking for. All I ask for is a place to rest. To find peace within the body of a man. To find fertile soil to lie in for an eternal sleep.
The bottom line is, what happened to Amber Heard to make her this way?
Mascara tear stains rest beneath my troubled eyes, eyes which have seen far too much for someone who has died so young. These mascara tear stains seem to compel a gentleman from the bar at the Cosmopolitan, an upscale hotel across the street from Planet Hollywood towards me.
He was fit, handsome, rich, and fourty-five. He introduced himself to me as a commercial real estate mogul from Los Angeles. He is in Vegas for business and will fly back home tomorrow.
One thing leads to another and suddenly I’m in a secluded corner of the hotel with Mr. Commercial Real Estate doing cocaine from the rim of his Tom Ford glasses. He kisses me tenderly. Ecstasy reverberates through my entire being.
Seek and you shall find. Sow and you shall reap.
He asked me if I ever did cocaine before and I said no. The truth was I have only once, many moons ago, so far long ago, with a boy I swore I loved. This memory, however, it feels as if it were of a past life, of a different reality. If I took a lie detector test right now on everything I am saying I would pass. This is how much faith I have in myself and my delusion.
Love is a very potent drug. I was high off of it all throughout grade school. I don’t think I could have possibly survived the complex trauma of compulsory public education without having a crush on someone there to get me through the years.
Perhaps ecstasy was my natural way of being, as if I was born with an unlimited supply of it, so much so they (dictators of the medical fascist regime) want to give me medication to “balance myself out” *yawn*.
I fell in love many times in my life. But nothing is quite as strong as your first one. Hormones run wild in high school, a primal social ritual where if you pass you get to live. (If you don’t pass… well… good luck Charlie)
Life is but a series of occurrences that repeat over and over again. Nietzsche calls this phenomenon the eternal recurrence, however this philosophy has existed since the ancient times.
The Stoics, possibly inspired by the Pythagoreans,[3] incorporated the theory of eternal recurrence into their natural philosophy. According to Stoic physics, the universe is periodically destroyed in an immense conflagration (ekpyrosis), and then experiences a rebirth (palingenesis). These cycles continue for eternity, and the same events are exactly repeated in every cycle.
I yearn for the time where my heart mind & body were unadulterated. The day I turned 18 vipers decided to knock on my door and infect my spirit. (I’m not quite sure they left, though I do try to make peace with them every now and then. There will always be a hollowness within me...)
Your first love never leaves you. In fact, it forms the valleys and crevices where the freshwater streams will enter your body, replenishing it with pure life later on.
Though an unfortunate series of events led to prom being canceled that year, in my mind, we will always be dancing together in an empty gymnasium, covered in confetti and cheap Mardi Gras necklaces from Party City.
Just like my high school boyfriend after our first night together, Mr. Tom Ford left me at the altar after feeling me up in his hotel room. He took me to the bar and told me he would be back but he never came back.
Truth be told, I think my passive suicidality disturbed him. He said he felt bad because I was very young and he didn’t want to be responsible for my untimely death.
Security said if I didn’t stop crying they would have to usher me out because I was disturbing other guests. One rule about Las Vegas is never put all your gaming chips in one round of Blackjack. You’ll lose everything you’ve got. House always wins. I didn’t know that before but I know that now.
Life is a series of events which repeats itself infinitely for eternity. This night was one of those cruel reminders of Nieztche’s philosophy.
Back to street walking. I am very accustomed to men leaving my life. (It all started with my father...)
Back to my little motel, next to the little white chapel where Elvis got married (I think), in hopes for a better life, in a better world.
Despite this pain, I still do love. Despite everything I have been through, my tender heart still does love. It is due to this heart of mine the suffering I put myself through everyday. It is because of this heart of mine I am still alive, blood pumping throughout my body ready for the next adventure to come…
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