Dear Little Liv (A Letter to Jr High Girls)

Hi guys, In addition to this being a post on my blog, it is also a guest post over at Sincerely Rachel Christine. I’m super excited to be a part of this series of guest posts aimed at women and what your heart yearns to tell them. So therefore – I’m only posting part of the letter here. Go HERE to read the rest.



Today’s post is something I wrote as a letter to myself as I was five years ago, something that I wanted to tell to all the girls that I know and love in my life. My sweet camp and youth group girls mean the world to me and this is my love letter to them. It’s a plea for them to be patient with romance, but also that I’ve been there before and I remember.

Dear Little Liv,

You sat there with your feet dangling out your open window on a warm May night and you cried to yourself, wishing for a man to throw pebbles and sweep you off your feet. You were almost twelve. I wish that the one night could have been the only night you cried in your loneliness, but it wasn’t. There will be many more nights to come.

There will be nights of loneliness – of deep heart aches and longings for boys to notice you and for life just to hurry up so you can find a man. There will be nights of regret – of giving your heart slowly, over time to boys where you realize that things are suddenly complicated and you just lost a friend. There will be nights of deep pondering – ofquestioning intentions and feelings when you’re not sure if you like the attention or are terrified of it. There will be many tears, many racing thoughts, and many desperate prayers.

It sounds daunting, but there are also brilliant days ahead. There will be days of comfort – of realizing that the men in your life are a blessing. There will be days of confidence – of knowing that you did the right thing in a friendship with a boy and seeing the positive results. There will be days of laughter – of getting to be the little sister to the boys around and having their respect. There will be many brilliant days that will in time make up for the tearful nights.

………. Continued here.


Somebody’s Baby Girl – a Prostitute’s Story

Just yesterday she came home in a soft pink bundle. “It’s a girl!” was her anthem. She was beautiful, a princess, and somebody’s little baby girl. Her mamma had some issues and so did her daddy. She wasn’t an expected baby – in fact, she was the opposite. Yet she was loved. She was tiny with her lanky fingers and precious toes peeping out from her blanket. Her head was full of rings upon rings of ebony hair and her eyes were large and sparkling.

She didn’t stay a baby forever. She graduated to pink dresses and to Disney cartoons. Her naivety was her blessing. Daddy left at year two and another man came in at age three. As momma went from man to man, the little girl thought that was normal. Fear did creep into her as she heard yelling and momma crying from the next room. Once, a lamp flew up against the wall, waking the little girl from her sleep. She simply shoved her fingers into her ears and told herself stories to block it out. Mamma said never to leave her room after bedtime.When she was ten, one of mamma’s boyfriends thought she was pretty. Too pretty. All at once, her innocence was gone. That was the day that she shed her pink dresses and her Disney fairy tales. In her mind, that sort of stuff was not for her but for “good girls.” That was also the day that the void in her heart was opened. That was the day that her craving for love, for the love of men, was unleashed and became her drive.

Push-up bras, mini skirts, low cut tops – whatever she could do to draw some attention at the age of thirteen. Sometimes, she would lie and tell boys that she was sixteen. That’s what she said to him, but he was too smart. He saw the truth about her. He saw her need for love. He saw that she was young and beautiful. He saw an opportunity. And he most certainly took advantage of everything that he saw.

She offered her whole soul to him. She was so willing. Her heart was so hungry. Her body was at his disposal. He urged her to come live with him. He was older. The life sounded exciting. Being his lady, maybe getting to have a few sips from his bottle of jack, and running away all appealed to her desire to grow up. She wrote a letter to her momma, though she doubted her mamma would be sober enough to read it. She packed her bag with excitement seeping out of every pore.

The life she found was not the one she had expected. She wasn’t his only girl. And he didn’t want to be her only boy. No, he told her that if she really loved him that she would help him out on a favor for a friend. She was hesitant. He was persistent. She obliged. The friend grabbed her hand and headed into the bedroom. There were two other girls in there. He ordered them out. If only she knew that it was just the beginning.

“I need you to work.” He said to her one day.
“Okay,” she replied cheerfully as she smiled at him and stroked his hair. “Where should I get a apply?”
“Honey, you need no application.” He smirked. “Remember that friend of mine? He said that you did just fine. That means that you can work like all these other girls do. Just doing some more favors. That is, if you really love me, baby.” His voice was so smooth. How could she say no? She hated being with his friend, but she figured that it was worth it as long as he still loved her. She was getting to drink his jack – was give some cocaine to stay awake from time to time. She was getting her big girl life.

So she did favors for his friends. At first it was just a few men a week, but gradually it became six or seven per night. She had moved from just being inside the cramped apartment to standing on the streets – doing favors in cars that stopped sometimes. “Can’t I just sleep tonight?” She asked Him. He laughed in a chilling manner and just took another swing from his bottle.

Then, he brought home another girl. This was a blow to her ego and most importantly to her heart. Until that point she didn’t realize that the other girls had loved him too. The other girls were just like her. Now she was just like them. No longer the favorite.

“I think I’m ready to move out.” She told him the day after the new girl came. Before she knew it, his bottle was against her head, knocking her to the floor. A string of curse words flew from his mouth as he pulled her off the floor by her neck.
“I’ll teach you to never say anything like that every again.” It wasn’t long before she blacked out. She she woke up as was a pulverised mess. Blood covered her clothes and bruises her flesh. “You’re working tonight,” he stated as a fact when he saw she was coming to. “And if I hear anything less than perfection came from you, I wont be so forgiving.”

This was the first point where utter despair swept into her being. Her soul felt crushed. Her spirit was captured, locked inside a solitary confinement cell. “This is what I get for not being a good girl,” she thought to herself. “I deserved this from the very first time momma’s man looked at me.” So she accepted her fate. She drowned it the best she could. Any chemical that she could throw into her body – she willingly took. Anything to make her not have to feel. Anything to make herself forget.

Her fourteenth birthday was spent with five men and a joint.
Her childhood was such a distant past that she forgot the plots of the Disney movies.
Her life was a doomed disaster.

She started as somebody’s baby girl.
She now is somebody’s whore.