Saturday, November 19, 2016
Whenever You Start to Feel Sorry For Your Life
You find someone that reminds you of, "I cried because I had no shoes, until I met a boy with no feet." I spent part of my afternoon ferrying a woman to a doctor then to an ER. Her story of tragedies kept screaming Victim with all caps, blinking, and fifteen exclamation marks after it. This was something that told me that there was a horrible tragedy in her youth to make her identify so strongly as a victim. She was molested by her uncle from 3 (her earliest memory) until she ran away from home at 13. Then at 14, she was subjected to a gang rape that exceeds even the tragedies in I Never Told Anyone. The guys who kidnapped her off the street in Salinas were apparently upset that one of her orifices wasn't large for multiple simultaneous occupancy, so they cut her to meet their
needs wants. Talk about people in need of public and painful execution.