I was a Goth in middle and high school- depressed, sometimes suicidal, unable to focus on classes, angry at busy work. I was overweight but fierce, made fun of for being Wiccan, known for being a mentalist. And I was ok with all that because to be honest as an out queer it probably partially kept me safe that people were afraid to fuck with me too much. Columbine hadn't been too far off, so I wonder if people thought I might crack!

But the reality of it is, I was a selfish, melodramatic teenage girl who didn't yet have the words to explain how I felt and what I was frustrated about. I hated my home state more than I could express, and didn't know why. I felt stifled, trapped. I was in many ways the leader of my little band of freaks, but I was pretty possessive of the spotlight. It took a while for me to try and make amends, to realize how my flailing affected the people around me. My apology was heard by some, and not by others... understandable. I think when we're young and selfish it's impossible to see the damage we do, and it's not always fixable, is it?

I grew up, emotionally, a lot. I moved to California, then to London, then back to California. I was a serial monogamist, bisexual, submissive, then a poly switch, then, now, a nonmonogamous queer Domme. I learned how to be a skilled manipulator, and I put that aside to live with radical honesty. I was straightedge- no drugs til 22, no alcohol til 19 or so. As I put the depression and the medication behind me, I found myself to be surprisingly strong and capable. I realized how much I didn't know, how much I still have to work on. There are days where I am still that girl, where everything is so overwhelming and I want to crumble into pieces. But I survive, a feral alley cat, claws sharp, landing on my feet.

Next year is my 10 year school reunion. I've always laughed about going- how those kids would be surprised by what became of me, right? I barely speak to any of them, anymore, anyway. I didn't think they'd really remember me.

Imagine my surprise when I discover that there are rumours. Some hilarious ones, in fact- one being that I was a drug addict (sure, if you consider Zoloft to be a drug). Another was that I do "rituals" that involve trying to be "forever young" by sucking life energy or committing ritual sacrifice! It's kind of ridiculous. I'm not even sure what to think. I mean, I was Goth, sure, but I didn't think I had magical powers or anything like that. And why pretend to be more exciting when my life was exciting enough!

So when I think about high school reunions, I imagine what it will be like to show up, dressed in my fabulous London threads, an international sex worker, writer, and queer porn sex kitten, perhaps an attractive lovely or two on my arms, and I think... oh, man. That'll be FUN.

I mean, who could've guessed the girl with a scars on her arms and the haunted look, with the armfuls of badly written poetry and the layers of clothes to defend my body from scrutiny... who would guessed that she would turn into... well... me? :)

I'm not that girl anymore, that's for damn sure.

They think the rumours are exciting?

Wait til they hear the reality!