In Memory of the Lost Youth

After writing my last post, I have been in the deepest grief.

I had my youth stolen from me, it was ripped out of me.

Now, I have silent screaming giving me a stomach ache, blocking up my throat – making me fight hard to find a future for my adult self.

That is the less I can do for surviving the hell of prostitution.

I can never get back my past – but maybe it can force out my rage, my knowledge that it was no accident the tortures I had to live with.

I do not know why I still alive, why I keep my mind, why my body is relatively doing fine – it may of inner strength, or more likely sheer luck.

Part of my lost youth, is the women and girls I knew who lost their minds, were left with damaged or died.

They are inside of me, ghosts making me fight harder to end prostitution.

Their lives meant so little to so many – johns just went on to other prostitutes, profiteers just replace them with other girls and women, the general ignore their existence.

They were made no-one and nothing.

They were someone to me, someone I chatted with, someone who try to stop me, someone who was angry with me, someone I let myself love – they were and are real to me.

Not the whore, not the prostitute, not goods to be used – they were always human to me.

And I know why I hate the sex trade, when I know how their lives, their bodies and their minds were throw away.

I cry now at the hardness of my youth.

I had no space for angst, no time to know emotions, no love, no fear, no anger, no allowing in pain.

I was just a shell – a hard shell covering up how empty I had to be.

That is not being a youth, that is just an existence.

A youth should be a discovery of your sexuality.

Most whores do not have that luxury.

Sex is put into them, nothing to do with what she wants or needs.

The whore will act out whatever sex fantasy keeps her safe, keeps the john distracted enough not to rape, bash or murder her.

What the hell does have to do with her personal sexuality.

If she is at an age when she be emerging into her natural sexuality, then she will confused, angry and scared of everything and anything to do with liking sex.

This can get embedded into the whore, even when she has exited.

I still find giving and receiving normal sex, whether gay or straight, very unnatural.

I cannot sex without being a role for the other person, I still carry in the back of mind I must please coz violence is inevitable.

I hate this, for I am still scared of being sexual. I have a libido, I get lust, I love the idea of having good sex – but the whore in me is not sure if it exists, or if it does that I would able to let it in.

That is the theft of my sexuality.

I may write more about my lost youth soon, but it is very upsetting, so I stop now.

2 responses to “In Memory of the Lost Youth

  1. Hi Rebecca,

    Have been reading some of your writing (speeches and poetry) – it’s such important stuff. Thanks for getting it out there. I’ve set up a free, non-profit making website (its viewable now – at demo stage – and will go public in a month) – aimed primarily at arts/media but also at the public. It invites contributors to discuss – and disemminate news and views about a particular topic. At the moment its gender equality in the arts and media. The next topic in a few months time will be whether over- sexualisation in media portrayal holds back equality for women. I’d love you to contribute something?

    Best wishes,

    Kate Buffery


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