I've never been brave before and I can't believe I'm starting to. I'm like a turtle in a shell, protected and guarded by heavy weight men, until someone dominates my exterior kingdom. I am left to guard my shit . With two arms and two legs that only know how to do certain things, eat, sleep, and be afraid. That's all the little turtles capable of doing, and at a must, I fight the ones who want my kingdom. But reality speaking, I can't fight, and I'm not good at protecting myself from harm. I have to cause my mama and daddy wouldn't help me in this situation, or any other. I'm useless to those people, and that's why I started my own alliance.
Back to reality speak, I was cornered by 6 girls who wanted to peal off my skin and feed it to their dogs. While I was talking about the turtles, I was for-real, I'm a guarded girl whom doesn't know how to fight her own battles. So in insistence's like today forces me to realize I can only be scared.
I'm glad your starting to warm up to my timid ass, but don't think this is going to last for long because I'm going to be telling you a long story about the life of Stasha. Yes my name is Stasha, a ghetto name, a name that as a kid, you wanted to name your kids that, because the girl across the street named Stasha was pretty with her legs propped open to get your boy-cousins attention. I'm far from that, I think. Cause I'm only 13 right now, so I don't know how I am, or supposed to be. But your gonna grow with me, your going to like me, I promise.
This information is vital, my father went off to prison, and of course I was labeled with daddy problems. Not only daddy problems but I had my childhood taken away from me by a horrible-horrible man who forced himself on me. I never resisted. I never spoke up and told anyone until I was fifteen. Because I wasn't brave enough. And I wasn't brave enough to tell the naysayers that I didn't have daddy problems, cause mama always told me that she was, 'mama and daddy'
Crazy part, I never get emotional about my past. Not even after my father got out the pen. and couldn't take good care of me when my mother pushed me off onto him for about 2-3 months. I was hungry, and I was heartbroken. I couldn't cry about how that man took my innocence and made me feel okay to have sex when-myself-was fourteen.
Matter of fact, the only time I cried was when, I missed my guard. My grandmother was my guard all 100 pounds of her. She raised me and trained me to be a sweet girl. I was. That's why I cried for her, I needed her, I didn't need mama or anyone else for that matter. I needed my protector.
Back to the part when I turned fourteen and had sex for the first time... Yeah it was in a back seat of an old Pontiac. I had texted my bestfriend, "we only live once" she was smart. She didn't loose her virginity, she kept hers, and til' this day she has hers. While I was getting my walls torn open by an 19 year boy, she sat comfortably in her bed, alone, innocently.
I was later thrived by motivated women who helped me go to high school with my head up. I never cried in school, I never broke down, like I did when I was in middle school. I broke down in middle school because I was mad at the world. I was mad at my father for trying to be a drug lord, and not a father to 3 amazing seeds. I was mad for that man to take advantage of me, and I couldn't shed one tear about it. I was mad at my mama who was a pissy drunk, who don't own her mistakes, and thinks, most of the time, her shit don't stink. I was mad, that the man who took my innocence held my auntie captive because he got a security check every month, and she needed her bills paid, because selling coke, and pussy wasn't paying the bills.
This little turtle can write rough, but talking it, is another story. Instead I'm inspired by those who sin, and I copy their hard and jagged edges. I copy the way they get angry and react. I know it's sounds pitiful, but I know no other way.
Now that you've dug deep into my mind, your wondering how I alter these different ego's. Scared, confused, hurt, ambitious, fearful but fearless, secretive, and pushed. Well, that's the number one key, I never show my true identity. Not unless it's someone I truly love. Like my real/only boyfriend.
He went through the motions with me, sad, angry, defensive, even bipolar sometimes. He didn't care, cause I didn't care about how he was. He was identical to me, personality wise. And let me tell ya' that's the worst. No he wasn't the one who took my virginity, or the second guy I laid up with, but the second guy was someone to fix my mood when I was down. But my real/only boyfriend was different. He wore less-than clothing, and he had bad anger issues, he was deeply hurt, but he was different. He loved me unconditionally, scars and all. I loved him for loving me.
He cried when mama forced me to move to another state because of another promotion, but I barely cried in the shower. I never cried about my past. Even today I can only shed a couple of tears. I've cried hard for certain situations but not for my real/only boyfriend... Does that mean I really wasn't in love with him?'
He didn't help me become a bad-bitch. I'm bad bitch in training. I'm forming myself to grow up each and everyday. I'm fifteen now, and I can only grow from here. I've heard too much, and now I'm "grown for my age" but I'm very polite and respectful, that's how I get through this world. With a soft touch, and an even softer voice.
I'm far from perfect because I still-steal cigarettes from my guard (my grandmother). I hate to steal the smokes, but that's my only way of coping. That's what I run to for a walk, or for a lonely day in. Cause I no-longer have my real/only boyfriend.
I'm in a new state (my 3rd new state) alone with no friends. Alessia Cara on replay because I have nothing else better to do than listen to a lonely girl, who is just like me, scared and confused. I got a Sister Souljah book cracked open next to me, taped up, because I'm not responsible with anything. Both talented musician&writer hitting every piece in body a certain way. I'm watching the days go by until my birthday hits, and I only get a call from family members, because I don't have any real friends to actually remember my b-day or even remember me in that matter.
I wish sometimes I can run off into a older mans, like I did with my real/only boyfriend. An older man who can scoop up my young thin body, and heal it from the pain and stress I've been put through. And maybe he'll help me cry, because I've been bottling my emotions in for way too long. I want to runaway from here, not away from my beautiful younger sister, or my guard (my grandma) but away from the real life I have to face day by day.
I can only train myself to become a brave women, and beyond a king pen, or a hopeless drunk. I gotta be much more than that. Stasha's gonna be much more, you just sit back and watch me grow on the charts. I can only grow at this point.
I'm still in editing area's of my life. Like my younger self forced me to like boys from Facebook, that I'm regretting today because I still have feelings for them. I'm just young and stupid who has been handcuffed, punished, look down upon, judge, pushed off on, unloved, broken, unprotected, angry, abandon, pitied, and bullied. But I will be brave.
For any young girls like myself out there, that feels heartbroken, or unloved. Please remember your life is in your hands. Become an ambitious women that never takes no for an answer. Always conduct yourself to be remembered in the most credited ways as possible. I have been you. In most situations, I have been all of you. Never let anyone feel pity for you, be strong, keep your head up. No matter what situation you are in, you will make it out. That's a promise.
© Stasha Thaxton, 2018. All rights reserved.