Okay, itís like this. I got to wonderiní how come nothiní fucked up ever happens in my life. Nothing bad ever happens to me, really. Never broke my arm or nothiní. Things people told me would happen sooner or later . . . never happened. I started noticiní how weird it was when I was around sixteen, and I thought maybe I just wasnít askiní for it, ya know? I was always a pretty good girl whoíd been awful lucky. My last two years of high school, I started doiní some pretty stupid shit. And I still never got hurt.
I slept around without using condoms or nothiní, and I never got AIDS. Shit, I didnít even get crabs. I went to all these parties and fucked all these people, and then I drank all this shit. All kinds of stuff like beer, and stuff they told me ďdidnít mix.Ē And I still didnít get sick. I couldnít even get drunk! And I tried, man, I did. One time I drank eight beers or somethiní like that, and nothiní happened ícept I pissed like a racehorse. And eight beers is a lot for a little girl like me. I started runniní with one of those crowds your mother warns you about, just ícause I thought maybe theyíd help me get some kicks, and they gave me drugs sometimes or let me smoke out with them, whatever. I did a shitload of drugs and I never ODed or got even high. I couldnít understand it. Alla my friends talked about their trips or whatever, and I never saw trails or nothiní, no matter how many hard drugs I did. I thought maybe I just wasnít liviní dangerously enough.
I tried crossiní the highway at night, just to see if I could get high off the excitement, but nobody hit me or even came close. I went out with scary guys, but they never tried to kill me, or fuck me unless I asked íem to. I skipped school and I never got caught, and I started stealing shit from stores. They never caught me either, stupid shits. One time I walked right out of Radio Shack with a boom box, and nothiní happened! No alarms, no police followiní me, nothiní. I picked fights with those scary homeless guys that looked like they might kick my ass if I looked at íem. They never did nothiní but spit at me or sometimes holler stupid things while they was drunk. I heard from one of the guys I was fucking that driviní drunk was a real thrill, and if I could get drunk I woulda tried it, but I couldnít, so I went out with some of my girlfriends who were pretty fucked up. Nothiní happened to us, we didnít even get caught by the police. I was definitely ďasking for itĒ and I didnít know why I didnít ďget it.Ē I tried everything that was síposta to be a thrill, and still nothiní happened. It pissed me off, and I got really bored and annoyed at everything. Why was it that the worst thing that happened to me was a sunburn and this goddamn depression? I was totally down and I couldnít drink or fuck it away.
Then one day me and my girlfriends were fucking around with some pills, and they were talkiní about which combos of what got you high. I bitched that what they said got you high didnít work for me, and they just sneered at me and said I musta been taking Advil. So I took one of their bottles and dumped the whole damn thing in my mouth, swallowed everything, and told íem if I didnít get high now, I was sure I never would. Well, they said I wouldnít get high, Iíd get dead. They were all screaming and Christina was crying and they were probíly all high already, and so Mandy got on the phone to poison control and told íem how many dozen of them pills I swallowed. They sent an ambulance and everything but wasnít nothiní wrong with me. They thought we was playing a prank on íem when I didnít die or get sick, but my friends saw me take those pills, and I remember doing it. Everybody said what did they know because they were high at the time, but thatís not the kinda thing that gets screwy when youíre high. So they say. You might forget the order of stuff but you donít forget the stuff unless youíre really out there. I got really scared that I wasnít dead. I mean, a fourth of what I took shoulda killed me. And I didnít even get a stomachache. I wanted to be like the other kids and go joyriding and get drunk a lot and not remember what happened the night before. I wanted to see those trails. I wanted a hangover goddamn it!
One day I was real depressed ícause the sex Iíd just had with one of my boyfriends had been totally meaningless for like the fourth time, and I cried in the bathroom for a while before I decided this was it, I couldnít take it anymore. I just wanted to die, I didnít like this world anymore. Anything would be better than this, even nothing at all. I got a razor blade and slashed my wrist with it. I felt a funny numb pain and something warm, and I made myself look at what Iíd done. I thought about all my friends and how they would come to my funeral and cry, and I started crying too. I thought about how my mom would find me, with my blood all over the rug, layiní on the ground. Except I wasnít bleeding.
At that point I decided some reality master was playing a sick joke on me. Or maybe I was finally hallucinating. I touched my wrist where Iíd sliced it and there still wasnít nothiní there. This time I took the razor blade and watched it go across my wrist. It stung for a second, but still nothing happened. I couldnít so much as scratch my own skin. It was a sharp blade too.
I started screaming and I couldnít stop. I felt like I was going crazy, and I probably was. I waited for my mom to come in and gather me in her arms and give me twenty dollars to go have a good time, like she always did. But Mom wasnít home, she was out working. I ran out of the house and found myself on top of a six-story building, and I jumped off of it. Landed smack on my goddamn feet, didnít even hurt. People had fallen half that and died! I sat down in the middle of the sidewalk and bit my fingernails in shock until I was practically eating my hand, and I thought about stuff. I came to this conclusion: Iím the daughter of God.
This didnít make much sense to me since I didnít feel like no goddess. My mom wasnít no virgin or nothiní. Sheíd done it with every Tom, Dick, Harry, Larry, Curly, and Moe, and sheíd been doiní it since she was thirteen. I didnít even know who my daddy was . . . except maybe I did now. Mom called herself a ďnon-practicing virgin.Ē That was another thing, I wasnít no religion or nothiní. I thought church was stupid and never said a real prayer in my life ícept to pass a math test back when I still gave a shit about that stuff. I was a white middle-class nobody, and here I was being a goddess. What was the deal, anyway?
It made sense to me though. I mean, I think God made a mistake with Jesus, if all that shit ever happened. Yeah, I went to church when I was little. Mom said it was all right to sin as long as you confessed it, and so I had to when I was little or sheíd a whooped me. I thought confession was probíly a rule some dirty preacher made up ícause he wanted to hear everybodyís filthy sex stories and beat off in the confession booth. I used to make them up before I actually had sex to confess about. Priest used to tell me to say Hail Marys for lying too. After I had sex I figured out why he could tell I wasnít telling the truth.
Anyway, in the Bible itís like sayiní shit about how Jesus was born of a virgin pure. Basically, God fucked a virgin. Why the hell would he do that? Wouldnít that be a giveaway? He shoulda fucked someone who wouldnít be surprised if they got knocked up, like my mom. Or maybe he was making some kinda point by gettiní him some with a virgin. I never got the point. Maybe he did it to piss Joseph off. If I was Joe, I wouldnít a believed Mary if she said she got pregnant by God himself. What kinda crack was he smoking? I wouldnít believe it neither but here I am.
They say Jesus was born without sin because only he with an Earthly father inherits the sin of ďman.Ē So if Iím a goddess, I donít have original sin either. Maybe thatís why I been tryiní so hard to get me some sin. íCause the part of me thatís not from Heavenís Gate really wants some. Iíd a thought if I was a goddess maybe I wouldnít want to do all that shit, but that ainít the way it is. All being a goddess does for me is stops me from getting drunk, dammit!
It sucks being a goddess, ícause now I feel like I gotta do something, and itís a lot more important than homework, or even finals. And I would give a shit about this. Except I donít know what Iím supposed to do. Thatís the bitch of the deal: Big Daddy up there donít talk much. Shit, youíd think the old man would keep in touch, huh? Ainít wrote me so much as a letter. Asshole. Thereís got to be something, maybe I could be a superhero and stop bank robbers. But I donít got a nifty supercomputer or anything to tell me where thereís crime or nothiní, and I donít even got a car, much less a Batmobile. Plus, I look fuckiní awful in spandex. Not that Iíd want to fight crime anyway. That shit is lame. I donít care if they rob banks. If they got the smarts to work out a system like that, more power to íem. Besides, what would I do, go in there and say, ďNaughty bank robber! You stop that right now or no bedtime snack!Ē Itís not like I have super powers or nothiní.
Thatís another thing. I canít do any of those nifty things Jesus could do. I tried walking on water and I fell right through just like I shoulda. I tried turning it into wine too. Didnít work, it stayed water. Not like I cared, since theyíd get me the same amount of drunk. Canít go forty days without food either. I get pretty hungry. And I ainít tried risiní from the dead yet . . . ícause I couldnít fucking kill myself.
Itís like okay, holy father who art in heaven, why are you ignoring your daughter? Youíre keeping me from dying so I can what? Fuck the rest of the guys in this city? How about a phone call once in a while, if you canít manage a burning bush? And whereís my wings dammit? I wanna be an angel, itíd be cool. I could fly wherever I wanted and get the hell out of New York. But I might have to learn to play harp, and I was never any good at that musical shit.
So, Iím thinkiní, maybe I do have goddess powers and I just donít know how to use them yet. Nobodyís teaching me. Who knows, maybe I have to anoint the water with oil or something before I can walk on it, or maybe I canít turn nothiní into wine because I ainít been nailed to a piece of wood yet. I sure hope thatís not what goddesses are supposed to do, ícause I ainít dying for nobodyís sins. If they want somebody to die for their sins they can do it their own damn self.
Anyway, maybe I could find someone who knows whatís up to teach me. I asked some of my friends what they thought I should do, after I told them I was a goddess. They laughed at me because they thought I was joking. They didnít give me any answers about what goddesses should do with their lives, they just argued with me about why I thought I was one. They thought Iíd tripped once too often. I asked them didnít they remember that I couldnít trip at all? And that Iíd taken four times the amount of pills I should have been able to? They got real quiet then and they donít talk to me much no more. Some help they were. I guess I must have brothers and sisters. Godís gotta be gettiní it on with mortal women all the time. Nobody notices now ícause he got smart and started doing sluts and not virgins. Maybe I could find a god husband and we can have godlings together. Or maybe gods and goddesses canít have kids, ícept for the big man up there. Jesus didnít have no kids, and it would explain why the hell I never got knocked up.
Still, I gotta find some of these other brothers and sisters of mine. Thereís gotta be something Iím supposed to be doing. Maybe I should put an ad in the Times. Or let someone watch me jump off a building again so I could get on TV. Except then God might get mad and let me go splat this time. I might do it to get on TV, if I had anything important to say besides, ďMarilyn Manson rules.Ē Maybe Iíll wait until God decides to claim visitation rights to do anything real important. íTil then, I got a few more people in this city left to fuck.
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