Girl from the Gutter (pt. 1)
For all the things you said I’d never do.
For all the things you said that were untrue.
For all the times you made me feel alone.
Said I’d never make it on my own.
-bridge, chorus-
For all the times you said “I’ve got your back.”
For all the times... you stabbed me in it.
For all the times you tried to hurt my pride.
For all the pain I held down deep inside.
(B)
Things are looking up for me now.
It seems like Karma’s making his rounds.
It’s my turn now
Won’t be held down, no.
Karma’s going to visit you too.
You’ve gotta pay for the things you’ve put me through.
I hope you do...
(C)
I hope your hell is filled with magazines
And on every page you see a big picture of me.
And under every picture a caption should read.
“Not bad for a girl from the gutter like me.”
Kina - Girl From The Gutter
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
When you hear stories abut poverty.. People only seem to envision pictures of malnourished children in impoverished lands far away with dark skin and distended bellies.
Now. While my life was no where near that. I am, a child from right at the poverty line.
I was born in Nederland Texas. Just 5 minutes before midnight on January 3rd, 1984. My mother (Tanya) and father (Jerry) were recently divorced (for the second time, might I add) and my mother lived with her parents, my grandmother Josephine, and my grandfather Vincent. More commonly known as “Mammy and Pappy”.
When I was about 16 months old, my father was killed in a tragic motorcycle accident. My mother was devastated. She had always loved him, and from what I know, she loved him until the day she died. He certainly had his problems, though. Which is what I’ve been told lead to the two divorces. But. I will explore that subject in more detail at a later date.
My second birthday was spent in West Virginia, and after only a short time of living there, we moved to a tiny, tiny little town in the middle of nowhere. A mountaintop in the itty bitty place of Silver Point, Tennessee.
Now. I cannot fully explain everything without making you all aware of... the oddities of the Rose family. I will deal with this in my next entry, I do believe.
What I can say, in a nutshell, is although very caring individuals who truly... and I do honestly believe... TRULY meant well. They are.. In serious need of.. Help.
But in 5 words? Fanatical, extremist, dysfunctional, brainwashed (christian), and misguided.
Anyway. Back to “the mountain.”
The place, I will admit, is and was very beautiful. 24+ acres of land, near the end of a steep gravel road, whom the branches of the surrounding trees provided a neat little canopy to shield the sun while you drove. It would have made an excellent country resort, perhaps. Directly across from our driveway, there was a picturesque parting in the trees that opened like a curtain on a stage to reveal a phenomenal view of the lake, which was nestled for down below. We were only a few miles from Edgar Evans state park.
All seasons on The Mountain were beautiful.
Spring brought wildflowers of every variety. Wildlife and insects of all sorts. Wonderful for curious and eager little eyes and hands to learn. Bright green buds as the leaves began to emerge, and cherry blossoms blooming on the fruit trees in the back yard.
Summer brought unhindered sunlight, perfect for playing in the water hose, and an abundance of blackberries that my grandfather and I would hike all over to pick, coming home covered in brambles with gallon buckets absolutely packed full. And red-stained fingers and lips from snacking as we went along.
Fall brought the brilliant colors of autumn. The forests on the rolling hills of our property turned shades of amazing colors, red, gold, and brown. The chill in the air. The fluttering of migrating birds overhead. Playing in heaps of leaves.
But winter was always my favorite. Although the most harsh and brutal, it was a time of wonderment.
The empty arms of the trees that towered overhead seemed to put their branches together to catch the snow that fell over the now-invisible road, creating an absolutely enchanted wonderland. It looked like something honestly right out of a fairytale.
But this beautiful place was not without terrible downsides.
My mother’s house was literally built out of old barns and tobacco sheds. I don’t think there was anything about the place that was actually new. My mother, grandfather, and aunt Rietta tore down shacks... to build a shack for me to live in.
How delightfully... disgusting, hm?
There was no central heat or air. In the sometimes 100 degree weather, we only had a window air unit to even TRY to keep cool with. In the below freezing winters, a gas stove that didn’t even begin to warm the bedrooms, only the living room. The pipes would bust in the winter.
No one had jobs. My mother was disabled and very sick. My grandmother, also disabled, and my grandfather. Between social security and retired navy benefits, was the ONLY way we were able to stay alive.
My grandmother bought the property to have some solitary place. She was always full of conspiracy theories. We needed a place to hide if the world fell apart. If we had to go through part of the “tribulation” of the Bible.
Yeah. Fanatical. Extremist. I warned you about all this.
Anyway.
While a child, this place was nice, but only because I didn’t know anything else. I didn’t know other kids has sleepovers, and best friends, and played sports in school. My sleepovers were with my pets. My best friends were my barbies. My hobbies were playing in the grass. I didn’t know there was a whole world out there. I didn’t go to school. I was homeschooled, because my grandmother had my mom convinced that school was of the devil. (Picture “momma” from The Waterboy.) I wasn’t allowed to go to the movies, because someone might think I was going to see a bad movie, and that was “A bad witness.”
Brainwashed. (Christian.)
As I got older, though, I grew to resent that place. I had gotten a taste of what the rest of the world was like, although, it was only through the only social life I knew - church - I knew.. I KNEW there was something out there. That this was not normal. That this was not the way children were supposed to be raised.
And more than anything, I longed to escape. This beautiful place was a prison to me. A prison I so desperately needed to escape.
xoxo,
Desiree
For all the things you said that were untrue.
For all the times you made me feel alone.
Said I’d never make it on my own.
-bridge, chorus-
For all the times you said “I’ve got your back.”
For all the times... you stabbed me in it.
For all the times you tried to hurt my pride.
For all the pain I held down deep inside.
(B)
Things are looking up for me now.
It seems like Karma’s making his rounds.
It’s my turn now
Won’t be held down, no.
Karma’s going to visit you too.
You’ve gotta pay for the things you’ve put me through.
I hope you do...
(C)
I hope your hell is filled with magazines
And on every page you see a big picture of me.
And under every picture a caption should read.
“Not bad for a girl from the gutter like me.”
Kina - Girl From The Gutter
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
When you hear stories abut poverty.. People only seem to envision pictures of malnourished children in impoverished lands far away with dark skin and distended bellies.
Now. While my life was no where near that. I am, a child from right at the poverty line.
I was born in Nederland Texas. Just 5 minutes before midnight on January 3rd, 1984. My mother (Tanya) and father (Jerry) were recently divorced (for the second time, might I add) and my mother lived with her parents, my grandmother Josephine, and my grandfather Vincent. More commonly known as “Mammy and Pappy”.
When I was about 16 months old, my father was killed in a tragic motorcycle accident. My mother was devastated. She had always loved him, and from what I know, she loved him until the day she died. He certainly had his problems, though. Which is what I’ve been told lead to the two divorces. But. I will explore that subject in more detail at a later date.
My second birthday was spent in West Virginia, and after only a short time of living there, we moved to a tiny, tiny little town in the middle of nowhere. A mountaintop in the itty bitty place of Silver Point, Tennessee.
Now. I cannot fully explain everything without making you all aware of... the oddities of the Rose family. I will deal with this in my next entry, I do believe.
What I can say, in a nutshell, is although very caring individuals who truly... and I do honestly believe... TRULY meant well. They are.. In serious need of.. Help.
But in 5 words? Fanatical, extremist, dysfunctional, brainwashed (christian), and misguided.
Anyway. Back to “the mountain.”
The place, I will admit, is and was very beautiful. 24+ acres of land, near the end of a steep gravel road, whom the branches of the surrounding trees provided a neat little canopy to shield the sun while you drove. It would have made an excellent country resort, perhaps. Directly across from our driveway, there was a picturesque parting in the trees that opened like a curtain on a stage to reveal a phenomenal view of the lake, which was nestled for down below. We were only a few miles from Edgar Evans state park.
All seasons on The Mountain were beautiful.
Spring brought wildflowers of every variety. Wildlife and insects of all sorts. Wonderful for curious and eager little eyes and hands to learn. Bright green buds as the leaves began to emerge, and cherry blossoms blooming on the fruit trees in the back yard.
Summer brought unhindered sunlight, perfect for playing in the water hose, and an abundance of blackberries that my grandfather and I would hike all over to pick, coming home covered in brambles with gallon buckets absolutely packed full. And red-stained fingers and lips from snacking as we went along.
Fall brought the brilliant colors of autumn. The forests on the rolling hills of our property turned shades of amazing colors, red, gold, and brown. The chill in the air. The fluttering of migrating birds overhead. Playing in heaps of leaves.
But winter was always my favorite. Although the most harsh and brutal, it was a time of wonderment.
The empty arms of the trees that towered overhead seemed to put their branches together to catch the snow that fell over the now-invisible road, creating an absolutely enchanted wonderland. It looked like something honestly right out of a fairytale.
But this beautiful place was not without terrible downsides.
My mother’s house was literally built out of old barns and tobacco sheds. I don’t think there was anything about the place that was actually new. My mother, grandfather, and aunt Rietta tore down shacks... to build a shack for me to live in.
How delightfully... disgusting, hm?
There was no central heat or air. In the sometimes 100 degree weather, we only had a window air unit to even TRY to keep cool with. In the below freezing winters, a gas stove that didn’t even begin to warm the bedrooms, only the living room. The pipes would bust in the winter.
No one had jobs. My mother was disabled and very sick. My grandmother, also disabled, and my grandfather. Between social security and retired navy benefits, was the ONLY way we were able to stay alive.
My grandmother bought the property to have some solitary place. She was always full of conspiracy theories. We needed a place to hide if the world fell apart. If we had to go through part of the “tribulation” of the Bible.
Yeah. Fanatical. Extremist. I warned you about all this.
Anyway.
While a child, this place was nice, but only because I didn’t know anything else. I didn’t know other kids has sleepovers, and best friends, and played sports in school. My sleepovers were with my pets. My best friends were my barbies. My hobbies were playing in the grass. I didn’t know there was a whole world out there. I didn’t go to school. I was homeschooled, because my grandmother had my mom convinced that school was of the devil. (Picture “momma” from The Waterboy.) I wasn’t allowed to go to the movies, because someone might think I was going to see a bad movie, and that was “A bad witness.”
Brainwashed. (Christian.)
As I got older, though, I grew to resent that place. I had gotten a taste of what the rest of the world was like, although, it was only through the only social life I knew - church - I knew.. I KNEW there was something out there. That this was not normal. That this was not the way children were supposed to be raised.
And more than anything, I longed to escape. This beautiful place was a prison to me. A prison I so desperately needed to escape.
xoxo,
Desiree