From the Pinnacle to the Pit

Introduction:
I used to keep a journal. In fact, I kept twenty journals. All composition notebooks, all bulging with the juice details of my middle school life. Last year I stopped keeping one. I told my mom that it got to be too much- with youth group and the school plays and hanging out with friends and everything. I lied.
Let’s cut to the chase: I’m a whore. According to the dictionary, a whore is a woman who engages in promiscuous sexual intercourse for money. So maybe I’m not a whore because a) I’m actually a virgin and B) I’ve never accepted a penny for anyone except for babysitting. Maybe the correct word would be a slut. A slut is defined as a girl who is sexually promiscuous. How am I a slut? I strip for men on the internet.
Other than that I’m a typical girl. I fight with my parents. I giggle with my friends about stupid things. In some ways you might say I excel at being a girl. I’m pretty. I am in all high honors classes at my private school. I belong to two youth groups and volunteer a lot. I write for the school paper, I act in the school plays, I play piano. I can hold my own in basketball and soccer. If only there was all there was to me.
Unfortunately there is a lot of rage inside me too. This rage (this blinding anger at the world, at myself, at everyone that takes advantage of me) explains why I am fascinated with this darkness.
I really don’t want to keep this journal. It hurts with every word that I write. I have been working forever to get numb. The first time I stripped it was painful, but I stripped a bit more and that eased the pain. So it became that I was stripping every day, maybe five or six times or as much as seven for seven different guys. It is worked into my everyday routine- school, hang out with friends, strip, dinner, strip, then bed. Not exactly your average extracurricular activity. And it’s not something that I can put on my college applications either. I want to get into college because of my hard work and intelligence, not because I can give a great blow job. I don’t even know if I can give a good blow job. I’ve never even tried.
Only one entry so far and so far I’ve shared more information than I have ever intended to share. I’d rather focus on the other aspects of my life, the happier aspects. Tonight for instance me, Carina and Victoria are going to a dance in the city. The three of us are always going to dances, although usually one or two of us come away from the evening cranky. More often we go to the movies.
Victoria is the only one of us with a boyfriend, Andrew, so he usually tags along making it an odd group of four. I swear, if Andrew wasn’t Victoria’s I would steal him. But Victoria is a girl that I actually have respect for so I could never do that to her. Victoria and Carina have been best friends since they could crawl. They live in adjacent towns and their mom’s both speak Spanish. But for some crazy reason they like me. And I’m not going to complain. They are my best friends even if I am keeping half my life from them. I wonder if porn stars have non porn star friends and if they talk about their job with them. There is no one I can really talk to about this stuff. And that’s why I have started writing again.