Prayers for Bobby

Most of all, Bobby was exhausted. The struggle had been unrelenting, his persona totally battered by the effort. He could pump it up no longer. Gasping for psychic oxygen, Bobby decided on that summer night to exercise the ultimate option. That he chose a peculiarly brutal death, one that would shatter his body, is emblematic of how he felt about himself.

I’m becoming incredibly vain. I love it when people compliment me, and it happens a lot. I love love love it. Is that wrong? I deserve it. I work hard to be pretty for everyone. I like being an ornament. See, the thing is that I’m ugly sometimes, so when I’m pretty I take complete advantage

Here it is Christmas. The only things I’ve been feeling are hatred and loneliness. I’m a mess. I feel like a piece of shit…. Fuck you. FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK. I hate it here. I hate everyone…. I look like shit. Goddamn it all. That’s the only thing that matters to me. How I look in the mirror…. I WANT TO TAKE A FUCKIN ICE PICK TO MY FACE AND STAB IT TIL THERE’S

NOTHIN LEFT…. I wish I could take a knife and cut my throat. I’ve gotta get the hell outa here

me. I will kill the evil force within me. I will stop you. You won’t win. Good will win. Evil will die. I will kill it. I will starve it to a painful death. I will cause it to suffer as it has caused me to suffer. Through the fall

other places, meet famous and interesting people, and become famous myself, for what I don’t know. Further

always scares me when he says, “I love you.” I’ve never been able to say that to anyone without feeling a little bit like a liar. That’s a horrible thing to say, but it’s true. Whenever I say, “I love your” to anyone, a little piece of me inside says, “No, you don’t, you don’t love anyone, not even yourself.” Inevitably, it was not to become

I’ve got to be strong. It’s either that or I die, really die…. I’m really scared because I think I will die. I’m so weak. I don’t know what to do. No, I won’t die. I’ll live and try to learn from past mistakes. That’s all I can do. I’ve got to love myself. I’ve got to stop the self-destructive side of my brain. Half of me tries to destroy myself and the other half, which is stronger, tries to do something constructive with myself. The evil force compels me to do self-destructive things to myself and those around me…. I’m determined to win over the evil…. I’ll kill the evil force within

constantly being told how beautiful, gorgeous, pretty, fantastic, etc. etc. you are. I pretend I’m playing a whore in an old movie and that makes it a lot easier, because then it’s really not happening to me…What I like most is being told how pretty I am…. I’m not going to let this job ruin me. I’m going to make it pay off in every way possible. It’s not worth it to let it ruin my health…. I must think and make good decisions from now on. I’ve got to. I’m very excited about the possibilities…. I want to travel, see and do things in

In 3 days I made $200—the easy way. Being a prostitute (whore, call-boy, whatever you want to use) is hard to describe in a few lines. I could write a whole book and it’s only been 3 days. First of all, I don’t feel any different really, than I did a week ago. Just richer. It’s very flattering, because first of all you’re getting paid and you’re