SecondLife Journal

mood: happy

I find myself wondering about how my life would have been if I had been raised by my parents and not moved from foster home to foster home. If I had actually known the love of my parents, would I have been able to identify what true love really is sooner? I have been living with a wonderful mane for the last few weeks.  He has shown me the wonders of being loved and being in love. It’s strange however, that he was under my nose the whole time and it took me feeling bad and hating life to finally see him, really see this handsome, sweet, loving Vampire. The first night I noticed Lance was the first official dungeon party at sinful needs, where I work.  I had just gotten out of a bad relationship, where I was taken for a ride and then left to fall to my doom. I was at a low point where I was ready to do just about anything to feel better, which that night involved me doing things I normally wouldn’t have dreamt of doing. After a long night I went home and feel asleep, the image of this man burned into my mind. Fortunate for me I had been able to get his contact information that night before I left work. The next day I was drug off to a club with my friend Sandorin.  Sand had to leave shortly after we got there but I decided to stay behind and enjoy the music, the atmosphere in this club was so fresh, it was outside and the sky was cloudy, a light mist of rain had started but I didn’t mind much, it was a great feeling to be out in the elements and listening to the music I adored.  I had decided to call on Lance to see if he was busy and if he wanted to join me. And shortly afterwards there he was, all in his splendor. That pit in my stomach formed again and before I knew it we were dancing. I don’t recall much of the next few days after that but all I know was that I fell hard fast. 

mood: happy

So my life since I went out on my own has not been easy.  I have met my share of users, abusers, thieves, peddlers, all of the scum.  I have also been luck enough to find a few diamonds’ in the rough, one of which is my best friend Sandorin. He has been there for me since the beginning, helping me find my first real home to live, supporting me when I landed my first real paying job.  He has also been there through all my heart aches. He has been there to hold me up and help me reach for the stars again, never once letting me forget about my dreams.

Ever since I could remember all I wanted was to find my family.  Being an orphan I had to figure out a lot of things on my own. One of the jobs I happened to find myself at I met a wonderful girl named Skittles.  She took me in and helped me feel more comfortable with my skin. Her family adopted me into it and as of a few months back I am now part of a very huge Neko family. I still don’t know all of them but I have built a close relationship with my sister and our mom. For the first time I have what I always wanted. It’s an adventure, it seems like every day I meet someone else I am related to though Skits and Sins (mom).

So now I have my family… it is strange. What more could I want? I found my family. A month or so back I got a wonderful job as a dancer at a wonderful club. Sandorin is a host there so sometimes I get to work with my best friend and I have met a bunch of wonderful people along the way. Not to mention the occasional jerk, but that goes without saying, you can’t have one without the other it seems.  This job came at a great time because I was searching for a change and the crowd this brought in was a different type of crowd, my kind of people.

The last couple of clubs I worked at I was forced to hide in a human form because it wasn’t acceptable to the “image” forced to tuck my tail and ears behind clothing and pretend to be something I am not to deny my Neko heritage just to make a few tips so I could pay ½ my rent and but food. Being outcast all of my childhood because of my race was very hard for me, so when I found Sinful Needs, I felt at home. So many different races of people coming together for one cause, to have some fun and be themselves, how could I say no to that?

So at this point in my life I found a place to be me, the real me, a job I love, and a lost family… really what more could there be…???

I can almost recall these events like it was yesterday, these memories haunt me when I sleep; the scars conceal themselves within my soul. When I was a youngling, my family was forced to evacuate our home. This was during the great divide of orders (between the Sarave Region and the Morgert Powers). This war was very intense and several families were forced out of there homes for fear of enslavement or even death. In the chaos of it all families were forced to evacuate the cities and travel to safety by caravan. A lot of times families would be separated and told that they would be reunited on the other side of the boundary wall. My family packed up all we could carry on our backs and headed toward the depot where these caravans were awaiting. As a youngling I clearly recall the fear I felt as we entered the corridor of the intake warehouse where all of us were to register our family names to make it easier to match up in case of separation, which would happen due to lack of room per each caravan. My family was to be separated between two caravans, my mother and father one and I was to travel alone in another. My mother begged to be allowed to send my father to be with my side, but there was not room and no one was willing to trade places with him in fear that they would be left behind or even separated from their own loved ones. As I was led to the entrance of the vehicle I was to be making my journey in, I stopped and looked back at my parents… my mother sobbing as my father consoled her. I pushed my way through the crowd back over to them, for one last hug and kiss before my departure. My Father knelt down and handed me a parcel, telling me to hold on to it and keep it safe and no matter what they would always be there with me. As I was lead back onto the rickety old bus little did I know that would be the last time I saw them alive.

The journey was a long one. It took us 3 weeks to maneuver though deep wooded valleys, across bridges though tunnels carved though mountain sides. The whole time I made my space in the back of the bus, holding tight to my parcel and staying out of sight of those who tried to scavenge what they could from other travelers. Taking from those who were old or sick, knowing full well they may never make it to our final destination.

Once we arrived to our destination we were all led to a receiving corridor where we would be matched up with our families. I sat patiently and waited, as several buses’s arrived, people poured out, families cried and rejoiced at their reunions then made their way to start their lives anew. I watch over 300 of these caravans arrive and leave again. I never saw my parents arrive. I sat there and waited, until the last bus arrived and left again. They never showed up.  I had overheard rumors of a bus being hijacked and all the passengers were slaughtered by feuding Orders, rumors about prisoner camps. I never found out what happened. I was placed in and out of several foster care homes until I was about 15, when I was placed in a very abusive home. After being there for about a month I made the decision to run away and taking my only possession, a leather bound book (the parcel my father gave me).

I have been on my own ever since.