It had been nine weeks since Johnpaul and I had got into a relationship; we didn't get together on the first weekend. He came to my friend's, but it was the second weekend we made it official. Asking him to meet me was the best thing I've ever done. We've been inseparable since the first day. He didn't meet my family straight away though because even though we had spoken for nearly a year, we needed to get to know each other on a deeper level that we couldn't do on the Internet.
From a young age, I never thought I'd have children; it may have gone as far as not wanting them. I couldn't get my head around them depending on me. I never thought I had the capability of loving a child. I guess it was all down to fear; what if I made mistakes? What if I wasn't a good parent or couldn't bond with the child? The questions were endless. I also thought I would never find the right person to settle down with; all my previous relationships ended on bad terms. I knew I was young and a baby in people's eyes and none of the relationships had gotten serious; they were barely out of the little primary school relationships, but the relationships were mature enough to have an impact on someone's views in the future. I was mature; I knew what I wanted in life, I'd had a bad beginning to the whole relationship world which leads to the fear of ever thinking about children. So many things could go wrong, including being left alone with a tiny human. I couldn't cope on my own.
Prostitution was just like being back at school, Moira thought to herself, all the girls hung about in certain groups; they bullied one another, got into fights if a girl was in another girl's patch, jealousy...the list goes on.
It had been a hard life for young Moira; she had lost her mother to bone marrow cancer which had took her by surprise and now she was left with the brute she called her stepfather. Moira was just 15 years of age when she had to take her mother’s place from cleaning to in the bedroom. The step father was called Robert, he’d won guardianship of Moira although she had protested but due to her age she didn’t have a leg to stand on; she was a minor and needed someone to take care of her.
Depression... there's that word again.
I love you. Oh, how I do. I always believed you loved me too; the sweet words, the caresses and the sweet nothings you whisper into my ears, you are everything to me. We are perfect together. My life is finally starting to look more promising. This is what I've always dreamt being loved was like.