I am not thinking now….. its a usual rut…….. the same smell, same touch, same force, same dim light and now it really doesn’t matter how who looks….

Its been 15 years, when I first came here though I knew what I was getting into…. little did I know that movies like Pretty Women are a part of make belief world created may to be de-stressed the working souls like us and sometimes to mock our hopes of getting out of this reality…..

First few days, the pain, the agony, the stares, the comments, the touch, the marks were scary. Sometimes death seemed only way out and then came the realization…. that even death doesn’t come easy…. to free oneself of agony was much more painful …. wonder how the characters in stories and novels find the courage to go through the same….. to bear the pain…. I tried that once and then screamed away to glory hoping someone would get me stitched up again and help ease the pain …..

You know the weird yet true part of the whole life is ….. there was a time when I was given a chance to escape this world… to free myself and as you rightly assume… I grabbed it at first hint… but after a month of cozy lifestyle filled with nurture, love, care, constant assurance…..I realised that I was missing the Life I so longed to get away from…

Then came the phase of confusion, the self pity, the self cursing for wanting to destroy oneself… and to what extent…., the phase where I started wondering what I had become and where I would take myself and my knight in shining Armour with the constant want of going back to the life I left behind….

The pull was so strong that despite of counselling, the logical reasoning, the pleading to get me rethinking, the realistic projections of life beyond the youth, and possible horrid after effects I still went ahead and resumed my life which no one in the novels or stories or the escape journals dare to go back to…..

Was it physical need or was it incapacity to get out of so called comfort zone…was it just a matter of habit…or the reality that horrid as it may sound now I needed more change in my night life than most even dream of in their wildest fantasies …. let alone experience in life

I don’t miss the chance of living a good life……… I saw what it can do to me….. its overwhelming, at times too burdening, its sad, it assures you feel bad about the past, its not something you like to live with ….. constant reminder of where you come from and how everyone else apart from you have been an angel for you….. constant feeling of being a victim doesn’t really help in self esteem….. I think I have more when I flaunt myself at night knowing what will sell and what needs to be with held….

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Am I happy now ?  may be … may be not, but at least its bearable ….. its a rut, a routine and though now I am just a corpse I live on without realizing that its the same smell, same touch but no pain, same comments but no emotions, same eyes but no feelings, same dim light that assures it doesn’t matter who and how…. now I am nothing but  a corpse now, nothing but a body at the bottom of the well…..