A Prostitute's Career

She counts her condoms and brings the necessities to clean up and get ready for the next date. As you walk down the street, you put on a smile to let those who drive by know you love what you're doing, when in fact you can't wait to get it over with so you can peel off the outer layer...because you want to detach yourself and not feel anymore.

Each day of my profession, I worked relying on sales, customer service, fashion and modeling. Once in a while I'd do a pole dance on one of the street signs, which seemed to work. I always wanted to be a model and/or fashion designer, but I never dreamed I'd be using the street as my runway.

You hear about models using cocaine to keep their weight down or help them get through another long day on the runway. I dreamt of someone finding me and taking me out of this hell hole and into a world of glamour and acknowledgement. It was just a dream. In reality, I thought "who would want me? A used and abused drug addict/alcoholic."

I wouldn't want my child or anyone else's child have to turn to the streets as their last resort. All there are on the street are broken dreams and promises. You learn how to survive in the worst way possible which lowers your self-esteem until you wish you were dead. Life becomes consumed by drugs, crime, rock n' roll and of course sex, sex and more sex.

Years went by before I realized it had been decades. You've seen people come and go, move or die. You really don't know why you're still here, you just know that you are and you've gotten nowhere except become a veteran of the streets.