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Sara E. Ferenchak
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I swear sometimes.
And I don't like school. I never have.
I love my mother.
My father used to hit me. He hit me as recently as a year ago.
I do not want your pity. Just your understanding when I say that I hate my father.
I have slept with one male person. I have had sex with two. I have given head to six. I am not a slut.
I have been to the bar. I have been drunk. I have been tipsy. I am not a drunk.
I have my nipple pierced. My tongue and my navel as well. I want two more piercings. I am not a freak.
I get angry. I hate injustice and cruelty. I don't hold grudges.
I feel things. Not in my gut. Not in my heart, but in my soul. And I believe them. With all of me.
I have passion.
I cry. At stupid things and at real things.
And I love you. In very definate ways.
And I want you to understand that I'm mean. And I'm thoughtful. I'm kind.
I'm everything. All of them and it isn't seperate. This is who I am always all at once. And you can't ask me to be happy without letting me cry. You can't make me laugh without standing in my rage. You cannot hold me without granting me my freedom.
You cannot understand if you will not listen.
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