Truth (it's a long one folks)

On the internet, it is so easy to paint yourself into anything that you want to be and most times, no one would be the wiser. But truth of the matter is that eventually, whether you want to or not...you have to go back out into reality.

For a while now, I've stopped using this place as an escape. Why would I want to escape something for a little while, only to return to the same stuff I was so desperately trying to get away from?

Starting this blog really wasn't my idea. It was my friend Crys's idea.

I had been writing and I wanted to really pursue getting published--like seriously and she suggested this. Really, I would have never thought of it on my own because I was content to posting various short stories on the internet and keeping my work and my stuggle locked in my top drawer.

I had gotten so excited about it and really--blogging became a very important extension of me because it allowed me to really branch out and put myself out there with the big dogs so to speak.

It has allowed me to approach my writing in a way that I never thought possible and for that I am eternally grateful.


Having a blog opens you up to people and a world that you may never have had access to before. You let people into your life because of this need of someone allowing you into theirs.

After a few short months, I surprisingly have a decent amount of followers and I follow LOTS of people. I never expected that. And with that...with the people who read this blog regularly, though I've never met them and maybe never will, I have this profound need to just...let people REALLY know who I am. Or at the very least, give them a bit more insight into my life.

I think that it'll give people a better understanding as to why I write what I write and what I draw from.


I got pregnant in 2007 by a man that really doesn't have the capacity to be anyone's father. But I was in a strange state of mind that even now I can't understand. I remember the events leading up to meeting him, and life was so...horrible at that point that he seemed a means to an end. No more running.

I've never been on drugs. I've never committed any real crime. I only have drinks on my birthday.

But I was a perpetual runner. Life got hard...I ran. That simple. I didn't want to deal--I ran. I'd pack my things in the middle of the night and by morning I'd be gone without so much as a 'by your leave'.

That pregnancy was...horrible. He was horrible. The only light was my daughter and for that alone, I'd do it all over again. My mom likes to tell me that she was the reason for...everything. I couldn't really appreciate life until I had one growing inside of me.

The relationship with him was volatile at best and after a year and a half, I walked away. I took my daughter, packed what little I had and I walked away. I didn't run.

It was difficult. But I got on with my life and I'm still making so many mistakes.

Currently, her father is in jail for domestic violence towards his current girlfriend. I remember picking my daughter up from his mother's house and they would be fighting, and I literally had to pry his hands from around that woman's neck. He even tried to hit her in the face with my daughter's scooter thingie. And I grabbed it in barely a fraction of a second.



I never thought I'd be a 'baby momma' or that woman who's 'baby daddy' was in jail. That's not me.

I never thought I'd be broke and struggling. But it's true. I am. It could be worse. I could be completely content in not doing anything with my life and becoming a statistic.

But c'mon folks--I'm a Leo. And women in my family, we just don't go out like that.

I could be a complete idiot.
I could have no aspirations or dreams.

But I'm not...and I do. And I'm prideful to the point that it's probably a hinderance. There are certain things I won't accept even if it's 'alright for now'.


I could go on for days about my life...but we all have a story. It's what we do with that story and what ending we chose that counts. But I draw from my life experiences because they are so rich, so painful, so beautiful, so ugly...so...everything.

In the first chapter excerpt when Charlie is on the bus...I've BEEN on a hot bus after being gone from home for ages at a time and wanting nothing else but to be home.

Like Charlie, I know what it is to have secrets so painful that they stifle you and to love someone so much that you think you'll die from it.

But in order for me to do this...to make her come alive, I've got to be honest with myself. I've got to be honest with you folks because I want you to know me. Because I want people to like me...love me...respect me even though I can be a seriously fucked up individual sometimes.

I'm wishy-washy, I procrastinate, I'm too sensative and I'm a little selfish when I want to be.

Yeah...I'm writing my manuscript with a notebook and pen. I don't have a stylist laptop and time to go off on my own and write. I write my manuscript while cooking dinner, making sure my daughter doesn't climb out the window, and listening to my boyfriend when he's talking to me.

For the past few days I've been feeling guilty because I've been so wrapped up in writing that I haven't spent as much time with my daugter as I like. I've been barely present in conversations with Eric and I've been moody trying to get this thing done.

Sometimes, to write in quiet...I go into the bathroom and sit on edge of the toilet and use my hamper as a 'desk'. Mr. King wrote about the importance of being able to close the door. It's hard...but it's important.

I write because I have something to prove. I write because it's the one thing I'm really good at. I'd say I'm a great mom...but hell..who really knows that? I'm learning... and most times I don't know what I'm doing, but I'm learning. I write because one day it's really going to get a few people's goats that I actually made something of my self...and believe me I will.

I write because I can tell the truth without stumbling over my words or making apologies.


I write because there really is nothing else out here for a girl like me.


I sincerely appreciate you all for reading this, for taking the time to comment...for just being present. It means SO much...so incredibly much to me. I could never express.

But thank you. Each and every last one of you.