The Pimp's Daughter

I have never been very ambitious and that, since childhood.

I was the girl who always sat at the back of the class and didn't say much. I wasn't shy, no, I was just revolted and silence was the only refuge I had found. I knew that my silence and my discretion could save me from the rest of the world and therefore, I took refuge there.

I had only one friend and she was enough for me. Not that I didn't want to have more friends but it was quite the opposite, the others didn't want me as a friend and they didn't hesitate to let me know.

I just adapted to the conditions that life gave me. I would have liked to be as fulfilled as some of my comrades but alas, I never succeeded even by making a lot of effort.

The trigger for what I had become was the rejection of others, but over time, the situation weighed less in my eyes. To others, I was just Marvel, Chyna's daughter, the pimp. No parent wanted their children to rub shoulders with me because for them, the daughter of a pimp was necessarily a prostitute or else, she was simply destined to be one.

When I was younger, I didn't understand the depth of the situation when I saw women scolding their children just because they played with me. Nevertheless, as soon as I reached the age of reason, I understood everything and felt very bad to the point of harboring rage and locking myself in a shell.

I had always only known my mother and she had never told me who my father was. And yes, she was a pimp and she fully assumed it. She didn't hesitate to put on a show to defend me when she caught other people harassing me.

Far from her not very advantageous title, my mother was like all other mothers. She worried about me and took care of me, but in her own way. She also happened to be as boring as the other mothers but no matter how much affection she gave me, the opinions of others always took over my head. I lived with my mother all my life with the goal of leaving her one day when I would strike out on my own in order to obtain the peace that she had stolen from me. But that, I never told her.

I was planning on graduating from high school and moving to a town where no one knew Chyna the pimp. Despite what people might think, my mother had never involved me in her work all my childhood. At school, I was constantly judged because of my mother's profession, but also because I was certainly the only child in wythenshawe who did not know the identity of her father. I have learned to live with the disdainful gaze of others and I must say that this is perhaps the only thing I can boast about. When I was 12, I swore to myself not to follow my mother's example, to live with dignity. From then on, I started to work hard at school because I understood that it was the only way out life gave me. I imagined myself to be older, living in a beautiful little simple house, all in my image, in the countryside, in the middle of nature or in front of the sea. But what I had imagined is far from the reality because today I am 22 years old and I am about to end my miserable existence. A lot of things happened and in the end, I am the person who was broken.

I was naive and I regret it. I ended up telling myself that people have always been right about me. Looks like my mom's karma has spilled over and engulfed me too. Yet I was certain of succeeding in living my peaceful little life, but far, very far from where it all had begun. A past that wasn't mine has caught up with me and I'm paying a heavy price. I ended up accepting everything, telling myself that this world is not made for people like me. I was skillfully manipulated by the only two people I loved more than my own life. Now I feel dirty and robbed. I feel like these people took everything I could boast of from me. And it's only now, when I may be living my last moments, that I realize that the words dignity and happiness are big words. It is only now that I understand that in the end, no one has control of their life even if we are all convinced of the contrary. Joy does not exist, sadness or fear either, they are only abstract states of mind that our thoughts inflict on us. And for my greatest misfortune, it is only now that I realize it. But maybe I'm wrong and if by the greatest chance that's the case, then I need a sign to continue to believe because I feel empty.

The funny thing is that all of this happened while I was in an enamored euphoric state. It was certainly there, the most beautiful period of my life because even if in the end everything was only an illusion, I lived each moment with more intensity than words could say.

The sea is this place that I have chosen to put an end to everything. I needed my soul to go into the arms of a force of nature and the sea is ideal. As I stare straight ahead and head into a world I don't know, memories of the life I've lived in this universe keep flashing before my eyes. It's strange, but I feel a warm euphoria come over me.