Ryann Reflections

A glimpse into the life of one anti-social stripper nerd.

Saturday, April 29, 2006

Roller coaster

This job can be such an emotional roller coaster. I hate it. I love it. The sun is shining and it’s Saturday. Yesterday I spiraled from raging in frustration to tears of panic. Determination brought a forced smile, fake for hours, but eventually the panic subsided and the worry dissipated as the money began to flow.

I’m back in Alberta which, as we all know, I despise with a passion. Yet here I am, again. Red Deer has been alright. X-static is a good club, but I’m running out of patience for this province. I think I’m coming home soon. Gas prices are too high to rationalize driving across these oil soaked plains.

I can certainly rationalize driving home but first, Yellowknife. I fly out tomorrow. I hope the money is good. I hope the other girls aren’t totally crazy. I hope it’s not -20 degrees…

Maybe someone will throw diamonds at me… (I know I’m dreaming)


Wednesday, April 26, 2006

Have faith in me.

I gaze at my hands before me. Touch, caress, and write. I feel.
Through my eyes I watch. Detached and observant, I am aware.
Words flow through my fingers, in thoughts such as these nothing is spoken. When the mind is pure and real it will come. The ocean is behind me. The mountains rise above me; the plains ripple before me. I am on the road again. My destination is always the same. The town may be different, the landscape varies, but the bar is always the same.

Through rouge lighting they watch. Her supple form moves across the stage, creating an atmosphere of loathing and adored. Music echoes in time with her body as a shapeless voice booms across the room, announcing drink specials and performers.

They watch.

I paint my eyes and shine my lips. Layers of synthetics cover my skin. I wait. Wait for my turn to become. Music of my mood fills the bar as I express, create, and mesmerize. They watch and imagine who I am. Curious and superficial they ask. It is always the same question masked within a different phrase. Are you real?

Is it any less authentic the image they create than the image that others impose on me? Superficial expectations of happiness and choice are thrown at me. I am more than you think I am. I am more than you see.

I will always be more. I am real.

I am content. I like my tears. I like my dreams. I like my smile. I enjoy staring into space lost in contemplation of purpose and courage. I am loved. In the mirror I watch my eyes. I’m not numb anymore. A year ago I was a train wreck. How anyone can expect me not to change is absurd. From nothing, I am. From nothing I have rebuilt my foundation and discovered myself.

It is a process, and I am satisfied in my journey, confident in my destination.

No, I’m not happy everyday. I am afraid of leaving things unresolved. I am afraid of loosing more friends, to death or choice. I would rather not watch helpless as dreams shatter. I am at times disappointed and vulnerable. I am passionate and strong.

Who is happy everyday? I suspect they lie.

To live is to experience every breath and complexity of emotion. No longer numb I am finally able to express. I love. I care. I am angry. I am hurt. I am hopeful. I am joyful. I am loved. I am finally real again. I am.

I don’t remember a time when I have been so content. I don’t remember being emotionally available. I feel I am on the verge of a huge personal discovery. I am undergoing a transformation that I have yet to understand, but I am excited.

Introverted is not depressed.
Contemplative is not stressed.
Love is not an illusion.
Disappointed is not devastated.
Hurt is not hopeless.
Joy is not false.
Alone is not lonely.

Why is there so much pressure to be happy? Can I not just be?

I am more than okay. I am more than surviving. I have not lost myself; I am not in danger of loosing faith. Please, don’t worry about me. I am stronger than I appear. I know my courage. I know my strength in expression. Even as I change, I learn, I internalize. I know who I am.
I’m okay.

Have faith in me. Accept me, as I change.

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Saturday, April 22, 2006


I expect the ocean to bring clarity. As I watch the soft ripples lapping at the shore I know I am home. My heart belongs here, but I fear its breaking. Disjointed…

I welcome the fading hues of dusk as the ferry pulls into harbour. Tomorrow that ship will carry me away. With distance I hope to create a sanctuary for focus, reflection, and perspective. It’s been an emotional week. My foundation is slippery and I am struggling to keep solid footing.


The sun has faded. The conversations are over. Distance is upon me… all I have left to do is pack, load my car, and drive… 12 hours until I can run away and find myself again.

Another cherry blossom.
Another shining 600cc.
Another day of sunshine.
Another day of unshed tears.

Courage. We all must create our own path.

The lights of the city are shining orange. The water has faded to grey. Above me I watch geese perfect their formation and direction. Memories are intermingled with hopes, friends are lost in change. I am constantly questioning who I am as I discover more.

I have said my goodbyes over coffee and hugs. There have been many “I love you” exchanges… and a few goodbyes linger in my mind. I know I am leaving something lost. I know closure comes from within and I have said all I can. I know I am leaving having reached some level of personal peace and sadness. I may walk away, I may have lost something forever, but I leave knowing I said all I could, knowing I tried. I wish I could pack.

Space. Alone. Peace.
My mind is a mess.
My heart is aching.
I want to leave.
Let me be. Let me be Ryann.

I am so much more than you ever suspected.
I am so much more than you see.

All I can be, I am enough.

Maybe someday someone will see through me.

Starlight, star bright, first star I see tonight… wish I may… wish I might…


Friday, April 21, 2006


My heart is heavy tonight.
For the first time I considered censoring myself so as not to subject myself to abuse and hatred. But I knew that ignorance would be prevalent when I commented on the Duke rape. People are stupid. I know I am an easy target, and a common trigger. I’m a big girl. I can handle it. I can disregard and delete it. I will NOT encourage nor condone hate.

To clarify, I am a stripper. I am not a whore, although I have great respect and admiration for the women that have the strength to choose that path. I am a stripper. I am a university graduate. I am a woman.

Sadly, I know the world is full of abhorrence and segregation. I know many facets of society blame and condemn my profession. I lost my optimism and faith in the goodness of humanity a long time ago. But I will continue to advocate for respect, choice, and dignity for all people. I may not change the world. But my voice, my influence, and my boundaries will change the world around me. If I am blessed eventually the ripples will spread.

The backlash from the religious right and the insecure and uninformed has reminded me of how far we are from equality. The rhetoric of fear has strengthened my belief in my path. My voice is important. My work is needed. I know I will encounter cruelty along the way, but if my advocacy, and my research help one woman find her strength I have succeeded. If I can prevent one rape, promote one healing, assist with one choice, or open one mind, I will have succeeded... and I will.

This is a safe environment. It is stripper friendly, whore friendly, gay/lesbian friendly, and choice friendly. I will not say free of judgment, because I do reserve the right to maintain and promote an accepting and open community. I will not judge or discriminate anyone based on choice, race, religion, gender or sexual identity, profession, culture, or lifestyle.

I will judge attitude, opinion, ignorance, discrimination, racism, fear, and grammar.

I will not defend my choices to the small-minded yahoos of fear culture.

I know my path. I am strong, independent, ambitious, intelligent, educated, compassionate, and beautiful.

I will continue to speak my mind.
I will continue to advocate for the rights of the other.
I will continue to write, express, and consider.
I will continue to educate myself.
...and I will continue to strip.

(my mom is very proud of me)

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Thursday, April 20, 2006

Duke Rape

I haven’t touched it yet, but I am now realizing that I have an obligation to comment on this situation. The Duke Rape case is horrific.

Sadly I am not surprised at the events. I watch men. I know what a group of drunken men with “Lord of the Flies” group dynamics are capable of under the right circumstances. I know that as a “Stripper” in the eyes of many, we become the “Other”. I am aware that when functioning in a society that dichotomizes good girls from bad girls and only offers protection and support to one segment, that permissive abuse can be excused.

There is no question. There is no credibility to question. Trust me; she has nothing to gain by subjecting herself to this intolerance and hate. Trust me; all she wanted was her money to pay tuition, to pay her bills, to live. Trust me; she did not want to be raped.

It is 2006 and yet it is national debate south of the boarder whether a woman deserved to be raped. It is 2006 and so many are so eager to separate the good girls from the bad. If it was a young blonde daughter of a senator there would be no question. There would be uproar, not debate. There would be no question if a young black stripper was asking for it, if she deserved it.

I am shocked, appalled and sickened by the determination and vocalization of so many people to blame the victim.


Just to name a few… It’s those people that inadvertently condone and encourage violence against women. It’s those voices that create an atmosphere of hate and abuse.

STOP BLAMING THE VICTIM!!! You stupid arrogant cock-sucking hate spreading self-righteous scrotum licking shit diving self-loathing fear-based ignorant cunt hating TRASH!!!

She is a stripper! Damn straight she is a stripper. For those that perhaps misunderstand the definition of stripper, I am going to elaborate.
A stripper is a woman who has chosen to make a living taking her clothes off.
A stripper is a woman who works, who pays her taxes, who does her best to support herself and her family.
A stripper is a daughter
A stripper is often a mother.
A stripper is a friend, confidante, roll model, advocate, and sister.

I take my clothes off. Should I have no rights? Should I have no dignity? Should I have no choice?

I am a stripper.
Do I deserve to be attacked and raped?

Fucking ignorant cowards.

On the smarter side…
and my own… http://ryannreflections.blogspot.com/2006/03/rape.html

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Wednesday, April 19, 2006

so scared

I’m so scared. I am terrified that as long as I’m dancing I will keep loosing friends. That as I become more and more self-aware as an individual, and embrace my life as a stripper, that everyone will just walk away from me.

They won’t understand. They won’t love me. They won’t accept me.

I’m loosing count of how many friendships have ended already. I love my friends, and I love myself. I wish they could love me for who I am and who I am becoming. What if I end up with no friends? What if they all walk away? I’m so scared. I don’t want to be alone. I don’t want to be thrown away as the stripper.

I’m not willing to quit my job. I feel like I have found my path, I have become myself. In Ryann I found truth. I love the person I am, and the person I will be. Not perfect, but real. I can’t go back even if I wanted to. I have already crossed that line. I think like a stripper. I am a stripper; I can’t pretend I’m not. I can’t explain the realities of my job accurately to mainstream society. I don’t have the energy to fake approval everyday. This industry changes you.

It’s complicated to make friends within the industry because of work schedules and lifestyles. It’s difficult because so many of us have been hurt so intensely that our defenses are resilient, and walls are impenetrable. I always find it challenging to find people I can relate to.

I’m scared, and I’m hurt. There is nothing I can do but wait. Wait for her anger to subside. Hope that my patience lasts, hope that my vulnerability doesn’t run out before her anger. I can’t stay open for long. It’s breaking my heart and weakening my soul. I’ve apologized, I’ve called, I’ve emailed. All that’s left is to leave.

I already feel my hurt and fear turning into resentment and aggression. I’m already tempted to say “well fuck you too. Lie to me, go ahead. I don’t care. I don’t need you. Throw me away like the rest.” I’m already tempted to put the walls in place and salvage what emotions I have left. I don't want to be alone.

It hurts too much to be wandering around in a daze, waiting. Waiting to see if she’ll talk to me, waiting to see if she cares. It hurts too much to spend my last few days at home wondering is I can add her to the list of people I’ve had to walk away from. I don’t have the time to wait. The window is closing...

It hurts. I don’t have the strength to stay vulnerable.

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Tuesday, April 18, 2006

I'm still sorry

Ahhhhh. Why am I doing this again? This is such a mess, and it’s so complicated. I don’t really wish things were simple, but maybe it would be easier. I’m sure it would be easier if I was simpler. I’m not perfect. I can be defensive, aggressive, and arrogant. I am also vulnerable and loving.

I am on a path of self-discovery. I am learning and changing so much each day, and my choices are complex. My life is undergoing so many changes, and I struggle to adapt to very diverse situations. I have lost so many friends this year. I’m incapable of putting myself through that again. I don’t want to be judged and dismissed anymore. I don’t want to be called a whore. I don’t want to have my personal value ascertained by my job. I don’t want to be isolated and discriminated. It hurts my soul. I am so raw from recent experiences, and I’m not perfect. I need her to understand as a friend how difficult this process is for me. I love my friend. I love her so much. She’s like a sister to me. It hurts so much to be in conflict with her. I didn’t want to hurt her…

I’m so scared of being hurt again. She can’t understand how painful and disheartening it is to be constantly perceived as a threat, as an enemy. She can’t understand how hard it is to maintain strength and courage when being dismissed over and over again. I wish I could cry.

I’m still learning how to deal with peoples opinions. I’m still learning, and some of my coping strategies, suck. I wish I made good decisions all the time, but I don’t, and I didn’t.

I use sex to change the balance of power in a situation. I do it because it works. It’s something that a very old friend pointed out to me, and I was forced to recognize. It’s a strategy I learned and incorporated before I even knew what sex was, but I knew there was power there, and I knew I could take it. When I feel cornered and threatened, I do.

I am confident, and I LIKE who I am. I don’t feel that I should have to justify or change who I am to please people who ultimately are going to hate me and disown me. I choose NOT to subject myself to that, and if I do have to, it takes a lot of mental and emotional preparation to decide how to handle the situation. I wish she had known that.

I’m a stripper. There is so much that goes so far beyond the stage. I wish she read this blog. I wish she knew what I go through. I wish she had realized how delicate and raw I am, how incapable I was of dealing with that situation. I wish she had known how hard it is for me to meet new people. I wish she had read my journey… maybe we could have avoided this disaster…

I hope she calls me soon. I want to cry.

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Monday, April 17, 2006

I'm sorry.

I hurt a friend this weekend, and I’m sorry.
A friend hurt me, and I’m sad.

I’m angry that she expects me to take full responsibility for the events. It’s not fair. I know I’m not perfect and perhaps she just hasn’t been exposed to me in a situation like that before. When I feel threatened I get defensive, and aggressive. I know this. I know I’m not perfect. I know I react poorly at times. But you love me anyhow, right?

I’m scared to get close to people, especially when I know so many will eventually despise me. Perhaps my attitude could be more positive, but I don’t want to pretend to be someone I am not just to make people happy and comfortable. Especially when I know that sooner or later they’ll turn on me, too many already have.

Instead, I was aggressive and open. “If you don’t like me, I don’t fucking care.”

… So the results were not positive. But at least I didn’t give them the chance to judge me as a friend and then dismiss me as a useless whore. I’m in a different world, and I’m finding myself incapable of reintegrating into that segment of society. I don’t want to. I want her to recognize the lesson that some groups of people should not be mixed. I want her to realize that I should not have been put in that situation. I think it’s a lesson everyone learns at some point, and it’s never a smooth one. Some social groups cannot be mixed, and awkward segregated gatherings are never a good idea. She knows who I am.

I was really hurt. I felt that I was being asked to censor my personality, and that it wasn’t fair. I was very shocked to discover that I could not speak, that there was absolutely nothing I was allowed to talk about, and I just wanted to scream. I also felt disrespected. I felt that she was ashamed of who I am, and that the opinion of her other friends was more important than respecting me.

I don’t really know how to fix it, and I’m frustrated with how angry and upset I am. I know she is as well. I love her dearly, and we’ve never really fought before. I found myself in a very difficult and awkward situation, and I wasn’t prepared to deal with it. I reacted instead of being proactive, and for that I am sorry.

I am sorry. I want her to be sorry too. How do I make it better?

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Friday, April 14, 2006


I’ve been debating what to blog about, but all I can think about is sex. Not in an uncontrollable hormonal sense, but rather in a fervent intellectual contemplation. Ideas and fantasies can be so powerful. I’m fascinated with the potential. I want to taste more, feel more, read more, give more, write more, and take more. I’ve been thinking about how mysterious and spiritual sex can be, and at the same time enjoying the aphrodisiac of detachment. The mind and the imagination are so fucking sexy. I love to let my mind wander. I’ve been thinking about the interplay between power and passion.

There are individuals that have recently caught my attention.
There are men that ensnared my passion long ago, and have yet to release me.

Oh yes, I am single.

I have a friend who has been subtly present for many years. I don’t know that our paths will ever cross in an intimate encounter, but I know in my gut if they ever did it would change my life, and touch my soul. The simple suggestion of that union elicits simultaneous passion and uncertainty.

Every so often someone crosses my path and immediately leaves an impression.
Every so often someone is surprising
…and perfection is attained.

Sometimes the simplicity is powerful.
Sometimes the power dissipates into total release.
Sometimes the unknown is irresistible.

Sometimes temptation is absolute.

Thursday, April 13, 2006


I am... wonderfully happy...

and too damn exhausted...

to say anything even slightly witty.

hahahaha everything is funny!! I can't wait for this weekend. We're having the first BBQ party of the year, and there is no way I'm not going to wander around laughing at people. I am hoping for a successful drunken dial-a-thon... but we'll see. I've deleted the numbers I ought not to dial... and found the ones that are the most fun to dial...

Life is good and I'm still in my pj's... better do something about that... soon...

Tuesday, April 11, 2006


Some people suck, but people are funny.

Super awful half-sex is the funniest thing ever (as long as it doesn’t involve me)
My best friend is a chicken shit, and I love it.
Dating is funny.
Dumping random people who haven’t really been around enough to actually break up with is weird and awkward… and funny.

Apparently I find other peoples pain totally hilarious. Maybe I’m just a horrible person but mmm the martini is yummy

Bed time…

Friday, April 07, 2006

Fresh Meat

I found (stole) this picture from http://redstatefeminist.blogspot.com/
Fucking Brilliant!!

I'm having a great week at work, but alas it's Friday night and every drunken twenty year old punk-ass bleached blonde brat who thinks he's hot shit just because he convinced some teenage girl to do him once or twice is out tonight. These special members of society are armed with incredible phrases such as:

Oooh whatcha doing later? I'll show you a good time
C'mon lick them for me, I could suck on those tits better
Let me take you out, come party with us baby. I can buy you anything.
Bend over for me gorgeous

Sigh... then I have to shred their egos and teach them a bit of respect. You'd think they could just sit there and shut up like normal men.

... and back to work...

Thursday, April 06, 2006

Living in shades of grey

He is wearing an oversized suit and is air strumming an invisible banjo. He smiles at me while grooving to the music. “Soup” is his name. He tips his grey tweed hat and joins us for a scotch. Peanut shells crush under his feet as he skips over. We are living in shades of grey. The serrated melody of Johnny Cash flows through this cavern. Logic has vanished and the furies have been released. Dropped into a bizarre monochromatic plot, life is too surreal to imitate reality tonight.

Listening to Soup is calming and endearing. He tells us of war and how he traveled “47 miles through barbed wire with a cobra snake as a necktie.” Disjointed his tale jumps from Vietnam to Vegas. Where he didn’t move because he “doesn’t gamble, just liquid gambling with his liver”. For a moment I am able to forget; I am able to enjoy the absurdity of the situation. Surely this day is not real. Rum takes the edge off, and I am vaguely aware of how out of character liquid comfort is for me.

…But I remember everything. What have I become, my sweetest friend. Everyone I know goes away in the end…

I try to understand, but waves of anger rip through me. I try to communicate, but assumptions and fear cut through my heart with the consideration of rusted razors. I am wandering through a grainy film strip. A graphic novel of Sin City caliber plays out around me. Tonight there are no colours, just emotions and choices.

A friendship ended tonight. In passing moments I am curiously detached. I am unable to grasp her assumptions and fears because she will not express them. I cannot understand her judgment because I only know my reality. I’m too furious to care.

…Full of broken thoughts I cannot repair. Beneath this stains of time the feelings disappear. You are someone else. I am still right here…

She struggles with discriminating notions, and could not accept my job, nor recognize it as work. In her mind, I am someone else. In her mind I am still dating the Artist, I am twenty, and I am innocent. She has never been open to accept or see how I have changed over the years.

I became a threat.

She is scared, and unwilling to convey her insecurities. Unfounded fear has brought her to this point, and it hurts. It hurts that in a day I came to embody everything she is afraid of. It hurts that instead of talking and embracing my friendship, she turned on me as the enemy.

Defensive and vicious she attacked. Malicious and with a total lack of respect she dumped every weakness and crack in her marriage on me. She refused to speak to me. Instead of dealing with it like an adult, she had her cousin call me. “Where can we drop off your stuff? You’re not welcome at her house”. Her cousin reiterated my suspicions. I’m a whore, a threat, and an immoral stripper not worthy of a simple conversation. Livid, I screamed in frustration.

Memories of high school frustrations and two-faced cowards fuel my rage. Crude adjectives and explicit vehemence flow into the phone. I want to talk to her. I don’t want to hear third-party opinions and insults. How dare she not even have the guts to pick up the damn phone and talk to me? How dare she be so self-righteous and indignant? How dare she be so selfish in her tantrum? Stupid Bitch.

That’s one way to end a friendship.

They dropped my stuff at the bar, with not even enough regard to wait for me to make sure it was safe. They left everything I own with the bartender after I explicitly asked them not to. It could have been destroyed, it could have been stolen. But I’m just a worthless stripper, what the fuck do they care.

All I did was accept her offer to stay with them and visit.
All I did was go to work.

She is isolating and sabotaging herself. The only real threat is her defensive resentment. She runs away instead of talking. She buries her emotions instead of expressing. For what? He loves her. He adores his wife, and has never done anything to jeopardize that. I see how he looks at her. I see his eyes when he talks of her. I know men, I watch them. I respect him.

He is the one that has to reconcile the aftermath of this temper tantrum. I do not envy it, and I do wonder if I would have the determination to bother. I don’t know that I would, I’m not married. That is a commitment that I admire but do not understand.

I’m not a threat. I never was. I am just a woman that has known this couple for over six years. I am just a friend that has listened to her doubts, her emotions, and her dreams. I am just a woman that has offered the gift of friendship, and put in the time and effort over the years to maintain and strengthen that bond.

All around me are familiar faces Worn out places worn out faces Bright and early for the daily races going nowhere going nowhere…

It hurts. But I cannot apologize for who I am. I am sorry she never knew me. It has been a beautiful couple of days, and I cherish the moments. It hurts to be thrown away again but I will not regret nor poison these memories. The ocean is eternally calming and I reluctantly allow the universe to pacify my fire. There is nothing I can do, like the water I am learning to flow with the current. Exquisite beauty is frayed at the seams and the events are ludicrous and nonsensical.

The moonlight dances across the waves. The wind caresses and stings. It’s late and the shades of grey embrace my soul. Illusions have been shattered, but I know who I am. I know I did nothing wrong, and I know my friends love and accept me. I am not alone, and I am confident on my path. I walk away from this with the knowledge that I did all I could. Someday she may need me. Sadly I will not be there for someone who was so eager to condemn, and disdain me.

I will never be there to listen to her cry.

... The tears are filling up their glasses no expression no expression Hide my head I want to drown my sorrow no tomorrow no tomorrow And I find it kind of funny I find it kind of sad the dreams in which I’m dying are the best I’ve ever had I find it hard to tell you I find it hard to take With people running circles it’s a very very… mad world... mad world…

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Sunday, April 02, 2006


I went on a date last night… at this point I’m pausing staring at the computer screen debating what to say. First dates are always strange. Dating is weird. People are weird… then throw in STRIPPER and it just adds another curve.

I met him in the bar the other night, and although I really ought to know better I am trying to be open-minded. If I expect people (however foolish) to not judge me as the stripper, I ought not to judge men as the perverted customer. Unfortunately I have his friend’s money in my wallet, and the “boys night out” is not an isolated occurrence. I don’t know that I’m willing to play that. I don’t know that I could date someone who hangs out in strip clubs, or whose friends are addicted to peelers.

There’s nothing wrong with him (at least not yet). He’s sweet, respectful, cute, and fun, not offensive at all. I actually really enjoyed myself. However I find myself lacking in ambition to bother. I don’t want to explain myself everyday. I don't know that I have the energy to attempt to convey the emotional damage and disillusion. I don’t want to explain my job, especially knowing that it’s probably pointless. I’m almost at the point I would rather date a Peeler Pounder because at least they get it. I would rather be with someone who understands, it's just a job. They understand that we are all different people. We all have dreams and fears, regardless of addictions, relationships, or ambitions. I am NOT smart for a stripper. I am an intelligent woman. That has no relevance to, or influence on, my occupation.

I don’t want to deal with his friends asking “did you fuck the stripper?” I don’t want to have to prove myself. I already know I’m not perfect. I already know dating me is nearly impossible. I don’t want to subject myself to the judgment, the assumptions, or the bullshit. I'm scared no matter who I date I will just be used and discarded. I don’t want to stare at the ceiling wondering if he is a good guy, or if he just wants to fuck the fantasy. I don’t want to be fooled.

I’m a junkie. I’m a whore. That’s what you always call me.
I’m raw, an open sore. I ache to remind me.
I’m a weakling, you are strong. Pick me up from where I lay
Here on a stolen sidewalk baby don’t make me beg.

If I worked in a bank no one would assume I was a junkie or a whore.
But I don’t... and people will assume...

I guess we'll see. I'm undecided...