The Girl Without a Head

As I was sitting and watching the news last night, a story came on about a 19-year-old girl from Bethany, OK.  She was murdered by her pimps who had forced her into a prostitution.  She was beheaded, cut into two pieces, and had her limbs dismembered.  Her torturous killing was taped and the pimps forced the other sex slaves to watch it, so they would know to never step out of line.

Anger overcame me, that and a wave of sickness.  I had to go to the bathroom...I locked myself in there just so I could breathe.  Hatred became me.  Such a strong, fierce hatred.  I could see myself crushing these mens' balls, then cutting them off and feeding their own crushed testicles to them.  After that I would cut off all their fingers and toes, and then I would cut out their wretched hearts with a dull, rusty blade, that is if they had any.  I'm still angry.  My own situation was bad enough.  When I saw the man who raped me a year or two ago at BWW's, it was everything I could do not to pull out my pocket knife and lash into him.  I had to call my parents...I remember, I was screaming.  You can't even verbalize the anger...there's no way to say how it feels to hate someone so much that you would take life in prison just to see them die, and not just die, but a die terrible death.  A quick death would be too good for them.

I remembered the feeling yesterday.  It was strong as the times when my assailant would come and hug me at school, because he thought the drugs he put in my drink had wiped my memory of that night. Yeah, right asshole.  I woke up right in the middle of it.  He told me that I had gotten drunk and he was taking care of me.  Only I hadn't drank any alcohol.  Idiot.  And even if I had, I wouldn't have blacked out 30 minutes later from drinking, thanks.

That poor girl.  All those poor girls.  No one deserves that...except rapists and murders.  I know Jesus loves them, but I don't.  God forgive me, but that's something that I will try to learn, and it will take all my life to forgive men like these.  I can't imagine how her family feels.  How would you feel if you knew your daughter died, not only before her time, but in gruesome torture?   My blood boils at the thought.

Write the Truest Sentence You Know

"Do not worry. You have always written before and you will write now. All you have to do is write one true sentence. Write the truest sentence you know," Ernest Hemingway.

Today, I chatted with a former professor about writing and how someday, my book will be on the NY Time's best-seller list. He taught a class called leadership in the media. He would ask us what leadership meant. What is leadership to YOU? As my life unfolds, and yes I am very young, but leadership is the strength to never back down when life is kicking the shit out of you. It's the ability to never give up, but most of all, it is not giving a shit about what people think. It's not letting assholes and the ignorance of the masses dictate how you perceive and write about the truth. The truth is the truth, no matter what. Yes, I'm a Christian, but I don't lie about who I am or my past. I say what I think, to a fault, but at times I find that there's no other way to say things. It is how it is.

That being said, I don't give a shit if I make people uncomfortable. I don't care if they don't want to hear about rape or injustices. I don't care if what I have to say is unpopular. I don't care if how I believe is outdated, or if I am what some consider to be coarse and unladylike. I am who I am, a flawed being to say the least. But I fight for what I believe.

Why do we skirt around simple truths? Why do we shy away from harsh and coarse things? Why are raped women treated like criminals, and why are women who were forced into sex slavery treated like low-lifes? Do you know what people have been through? Have you been there? I honestly don't think anyone should pass judgment until they walked a mile in that person's shoes. Not a step or a few feet, no. But a mile. That's a while to walk, don't you think? If we spent more of our time walking in other peoples' shoes, this world would be better off. This is easier said than done.

I think about people we label. Don't we all do it? Oh, and with such an ease. We classify people into these perfect little groups. We put them in boxes. I feel like it's time to forgo the cookie-cutter American dream life. How about I live a life without much money, and I fight for those who can't speak and don't have a voice. I believe that it's only when one does this that change actually happens in a nation. If you started giving your life to understand someone else, what would you find? I challenge you to do that. Invest time with someone you've probably labeled to be troublesome or annoying. Chances are that you have more in common with them than you think.