A woman like that is not ashamed to die

I go out at night, a possessed woman. Possessed, that is what I would have to be to do what I do as a “job.” I pull on my fishnets one leg at a time, wondering if I will make it through one more night. My tight leather skirt feels even tighter than usual, it’s suffocating me. I can feel the layers of makeup on my face. I look sloppy, but I don’t even care. No one cares. People say a woman like me isn’t really a woman.

I make my way to the dark alley where I usually work. It is damp, lit only by one streetlight. There I am surrounded by girls both older and younger than me. If I am surrounded by people, why am I so lonely? After a few minutes a black Mercedes slides up to the curb. The passenger’s side window rolls down and a man, about late twenties, leans over from the driver’s seat. He looks us all up and down. He chooses one of the newer girls. I examine her young face and decide she is about seventeen. I want to shake her and scream at her, “why are you here!!?”

Then I ask myself, how did I get here? More importantly, how do I get out? I hate my life. I am an outcast in society with few friends and no family. I live alone, I depend on no one but myself, and no one depends on me…thank god. I have made this “job” my own now.

I have been caught once, burned like a witch at the stake because of my occupation. I can still feel those cold, hard handcuffs around my wrists and that ear-splitting sound of a siren will never leave my head. It was alright though, I survived it. I thought I would never go back to that dark alley after that. But it’s hard to get out once you’ve been there. I have ruined my life, and nothing more can shame me.
Therefore, I am not ashamed to die.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZDcARJqtqFs