FROM THE DIARY OF A PROSTITUTE



I don’t care whether it was once exciting for me or not but I at times hate what I do. It’s destroying my soul, making me lose touch with myself, teaching me that pain is a reward, that money buys everything and justifies everything.

No one around me is happy, the clients know they are paying for something that should be free, and that’s depressing. The women know that they have to sell something which they would like to give out of pleasure and affection, and that is destructive. I have struggled hard and log before writing this, before accepting how unhappy and dissatisfied I am – I am needed and I still need to hold on for a few more weeks.

But I cannot simply do nothing, pretend that everything is normal, that it is just a stage, a phase of my life. I want to forget it, I need to love- that’s all, I need to love.

Life is too short, or too long, for me to allow myself the luxury of living It so badly….

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