The Monster that held you until you went, and pushed you skywards, heaven sent, the tears I have shed, my sins repent, the childhood name calling, “you girls are bent”.
I’m so lost here, I’m next, you see
Can’t breathe or smile, you ain’t here with me
I look up to the stars and see your eyes
Gazing back down here in Sydney
Guide me with the everlasting love you own, and I promise I’ll be good forevermore,
to be young and in love
now I’m laughing and lolly-ing baby, pillow fight and popcorn, my bxtchfacewhxre.
I miss you and I’ll see you soon, my friend till the end.
Whilst on lunch, got talking to this lady, just randomly, how’s your Bank Holiday going, nice weather etc.
Nice chat, told her little bits about me, where I’m from, what I’m doing in the UK, and all the while she were guzzling a bottle of vodka. And mumbling whatever. Something about men are pigs. Over and over.
I assured her, whilst yes, they are, not all men are the same.
I told her that I had to be pulled down a peg, or five, as a few years ago, that was my mantra.
MEN ARE PIGS.
But they are, she said. And in that instant, she just collapsed into tears.
I brought her back to my office, directed her to the restroom, told her to wipe them tears, then wait in the lobby.
Cut short my day, called up McKenzie and said prepare the guest room, I’m bringing someone home.
This poor woman, Hayley, loves this man so much. So much so, that he treats her like shit. Treats her house like it’s fucking The Hilton.
Has his friends over there, sharing a crack pipe, smoking weed, shooting heroin.
And this thirty-nine year old lets him, because she loves him.
“Because I love him”
She loves him so much, that after disclosing to me today, that she’s pregnant AGAIN, she does not want this baby. Hence the drinking of vodka.
She just doesn’t.
Kill it, before it’s born. It will grow into a monster, just like it’s father.
Now, I don’t know how much of what she’s saying is true – but she’s only just gone to sleep. Her cell kept going off, with the caller ID of Piotr.
Told her to make her family and friends know where she is, and made me speak to them too.
I told them all she’s safe.
I also assured her that I’m not a serial killer. And I hope she’s not one too, as I’m bringing a stranger into my world, into my home.
I said to Hayley that she’s okay to stay here until Wednesday, and I’ll take her back into London with me, when I go to work. And we will head into town later, she has no clean knickers.
She’s had a bit of escapism; she had never heard of 9-1-1, and all that’s The Chicago universe. Like me, she likes Chicago PD. For those few hours, at least, I saw a different woman to the one I first encountered.
Happy.
Relaxed.
Safe.
Even my housemate made her laugh, with her take on men.
“Men. They’re only good for one thing. And it’s not their cocks”
I’ll speak to her about not making any rash decisions about the baby. But in reality, she doesn’t need to discuss that with me. Let her clear her mind, and focus first.
She will go back to him, I’m certain. Some women have that mechanism inside of them; they’re lost without their soulmate. She will be back to playing wife – being his dog. Making sure her house is clean, for when his friends come over. Ask permission to go see her friends, family. Ask permission to breathe.
“ but Dad. You forget. I remember. I remember your face back then. And sometimes when I look at you today, I still catch that slightest look, albeit years later. Maybe I’m to blame. I wasn’t an easy kid. Maybe we suffered a blip. Or maybe that episode affected you more than me. I remember overhearing you and Mom talk a few weeks later – how you didn’t want it getting out to The Press. How “my shame” would/could damage the reputations/relationships you have rightfully accrued. My sexual assault as you called it. My rape as I call it. Damage control right? As a parent, you will look at me differently. Any parent would look at their kid differently. For a time. And strive to work thru, together. Mom did….”
On and off for the past couple of years or so, this girl has decided to take pieces of my life, and make it her own.
At first I thought I was imagining, but all came to a head earlier this evening when someone from back home sent me a message asking if I had seen the latest on SWF?
Now, I thought this were all done and done, calm, moved on, found a life of her own etc, but no, I logged on, and there were parts of my life up on the socials, under her name.
How do I know it’s not a real life thing : because the exact same scenarios are on show, just like before, with, as I put it on Twitter, “added a bit more sympathy for the beg”.
Part of me wants to cry, part wants to laugh.
💫
I share what I want, and the main private, uncomfortable stuff is here, but when I read things linked to myself elsewhere, then see that person get the humans commenting, I’m like lol. Y’all know you commenting on my shit, not hers. But that’s okay. because you guys took time out of your sorry ass day to get sucked into the ‘awww baby girl, here’s some hugs and men are cxnts, we got cha back always” black hole.
But what you don’t know is that I’ve already written this, already shared with you, some of you have even read what I’m talking about, privately sent me the same what you’re sending now. And you too stupid to realize that you’ve been played, and not noticed that you’ve seen all this before from me.
So to you, carry on with the attention seeking, I’m sure it’ll go down very well.
Feel free to plagiarize from myself even further.
I won’t even tell ya of the trap that will be in place, and if I notice anything, I won’t even hesitate to call you out.
The Girl with The Sunkissed Hair 