17: 1986. I started hanging out with the 'metal heads'. They weren't afraid to do their own thing even though people judged them. This is when I first started seeing how judgmental people were. [I'd end up hanging out with unfavorable types in California during my early 20s: drug dealers, prostitutes, etc.] I found myself a group of outcasts called The Brew Crew. We hung out in a van drinking beer. Frank was Missy's brother and he drove the van because he was older. They didn't have parents. Their house was a slum and a mess but we could do whatever we wanted there. It scared me but excited me at the same time. There was graffiti spray painted all over the walls and a grim reaper too. I always dumped out my beer and pretended to drink it and be drunk to fit in.
I knew some rap guys too. This one guy named Jeff Bernstein was tall, thin, had the prettiest blue eyes and wore a fur coat in winter. He looked like a pimp. I'm pretty sure he was a drug dealer but I was very naive in those days. Mixed tape exchange was very popular and if someone made one for you, you really were all that.
Back in those days the question was, What type of music do you like, rock or disco? Disco was the choice of the in-crowd who would get into their Trans Am, Cadillac, or Impala and cruise around the shopping plaza parking lot for all the girls to squeal in excitement.
I liked a boy named Rob Marino who drove his mama's beige Reliant with plastic seat covers and a car horn that played La Cucaracha. He was Venezuelan and Puerto Rican. My father hated him and called him a nigger. He tried to run him over once when Rob was on a bicycle and my father was in a car, a Riviera. He was the first boy to tell me he loved me. I asked him if he loved me and he said he would write his answer down [on a cassette tape insert] and that I wasn't to read it until I got into the house. I open the folded paper and saw that it said "Yes. Do you love me?" I was so excited. For the first time in my life I felt happy and popular and accepted. I wonder how things would have turned out if I had been allowed to continue dating him.
My father wanted me to go out with Tony Willsea instead because he was white and an ass kisser/manipulator. He was the first guy to ever touch me 'down there' and do oral sex. He told me to relax and pretend I was a Burger King french fry all soggy and limp [back when BK fries were good like that]. He gave me an engagement ring in a bright orange-red box for Christmas and I accepted it because my father had said I would be under his rule until I got married and became my husband's problem. I felt embarrassed to be seen with Tony in public so I'd twist my ring around to hide it. The girls at school made fun of me. I eventually ended the relationship when it became too much for me to bear.
I was also hit by a car. The year was 1986 but I was still 16 at the time since my birthday is in October [when I became 17] and I was hit in August when I was still 16. I was crossing a street meeting up with my friend Caroline on a Sunday to take the bus to the flea market. She was on the other side of the street and the last thing I remember is waving at her then running across to meet her. I can't recall if I looked in every direction or not but according to the police report a Cadillac slammed into me and flung me 8 feet into the air and 20 feet out. I lost consciousness and memory. I can't tell you how many times I wished I would have died that day and not experienced the subsequent pain of living and being me. I cried and asked my mother why I couldn't just be normal and she shrugged it off saying I was just being dramatic because I saw it on a made for TV movie while I was bored in the hospital.
I knew some rap guys too. This one guy named Jeff Bernstein was tall, thin, had the prettiest blue eyes and wore a fur coat in winter. He looked like a pimp. I'm pretty sure he was a drug dealer but I was very naive in those days. Mixed tape exchange was very popular and if someone made one for you, you really were all that.
Back in those days the question was, What type of music do you like, rock or disco? Disco was the choice of the in-crowd who would get into their Trans Am, Cadillac, or Impala and cruise around the shopping plaza parking lot for all the girls to squeal in excitement.
I liked a boy named Rob Marino who drove his mama's beige Reliant with plastic seat covers and a car horn that played La Cucaracha. He was Venezuelan and Puerto Rican. My father hated him and called him a nigger. He tried to run him over once when Rob was on a bicycle and my father was in a car, a Riviera. He was the first boy to tell me he loved me. I asked him if he loved me and he said he would write his answer down [on a cassette tape insert] and that I wasn't to read it until I got into the house. I open the folded paper and saw that it said "Yes. Do you love me?" I was so excited. For the first time in my life I felt happy and popular and accepted. I wonder how things would have turned out if I had been allowed to continue dating him.
My father wanted me to go out with Tony Willsea instead because he was white and an ass kisser/manipulator. He was the first guy to ever touch me 'down there' and do oral sex. He told me to relax and pretend I was a Burger King french fry all soggy and limp [back when BK fries were good like that]. He gave me an engagement ring in a bright orange-red box for Christmas and I accepted it because my father had said I would be under his rule until I got married and became my husband's problem. I felt embarrassed to be seen with Tony in public so I'd twist my ring around to hide it. The girls at school made fun of me. I eventually ended the relationship when it became too much for me to bear.
I was also hit by a car. The year was 1986 but I was still 16 at the time since my birthday is in October [when I became 17] and I was hit in August when I was still 16. I was crossing a street meeting up with my friend Caroline on a Sunday to take the bus to the flea market. She was on the other side of the street and the last thing I remember is waving at her then running across to meet her. I can't recall if I looked in every direction or not but according to the police report a Cadillac slammed into me and flung me 8 feet into the air and 20 feet out. I lost consciousness and memory. I can't tell you how many times I wished I would have died that day and not experienced the subsequent pain of living and being me. I cried and asked my mother why I couldn't just be normal and she shrugged it off saying I was just being dramatic because I saw it on a made for TV movie while I was bored in the hospital.
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