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I have too many things, too many clothes. You look like you could use some new things, dear.
I am a prostitute.
Now that we've got that out of the way. I'm poor. Very poor. Poor in so much I should be on welfare, food stamps, whatever term Americans use to describe government interference of the lower class man's wallet and a social stigma against those who don't have the job, will, or intelligence to rub two nickles together. I'm only of will and job; I can assure you I'm smarter than any Harvard graduate because they're too prepared and I'm prepared enough.
I wasn't prepared for this though.
I wasn't prepared to be a whore, to be poor, to lose my mother to be an alcoholic, to be alone to have anger problems to be worried about rent to be up a creek without a goddamn paddle
But why are we talking about this? It's such a nice day outside; the wind and sun are perfect. That's why I'm out here with these clothes lines doing laundry.
Why are my white clothes red? I don't have pink socks, only pink thongs and condoms and bottles. Maybe wine spilt in my load and here it is all over my clothes.
But that's alright. I didn't need these clothes anyway. I was going to make them all nice and well washed to donate to the local Goodwill so I can have some money to drinkeat. Because I need to feel goodto eat. But I need to stop talking and get my chores done. There's people to fuck things to do and bottles of liquor to single-handedly empty places to be and I need to keep a roof over my head schedulesto maintain so please go. Could you hand me those clothes pins though?
These clothes are so heavy. But really, they're all extra baggage. Why I put them in baggies, I'll never understand. They also stink, and are so messy, but it's all just a bunch of extra crap I don't really need. Would you like some of it? I'd like to get rid of it so I don't have to worry about it anymore. You look like someone whose in need of a few things, so have a look. I'm getting ready to hang them now.
God, these are so heavy. I'm sorry, I didn't know this would scare you, but you said yes, so.
I'm hanging my liver here because I have a drinking problem because it's extra baggage.
I'm hanging my intestines because I don't eat because it's so long and too hard to stuff back in.
I'm hanging my lungs because I probably have lung cancer because I can breathe through my nose just fine.
I'm hanging my heart here because it's always broken because I never got a chance to fix it.
I'm hanging my brain here just because I'm stupid.
Do you still want this extra baggage?
my extra baggage?
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