Wednesday, January 30, 2013


Time is running out as beauty slowly vanishes like the sun setting on the sea
All that is left is the inner me and it is ugly and grotesque
It is the darkness that cannot be brought out into the light of day

The tears fall but they cannot quench my desert soul
I cry for what I've lost even though it was never really mine
I thought I could handle this…I thought I knew what I was doing

I've traveled down this road more times than I want to remember, it doesn't get easier
It always ends the same…me naked, emotionally battered, and running for my life
For a brief moment I thought that the catalyst might be the one I could run towards; I'm so stupid

I'm getting so fucking tired of chasing a dream that will never materialize
It wasn't true romance…it was gritty unabridged lust without limits or promises
Foolishly I forgot that sex isn't love, never has been and never will be
This is the one lesson that for some reason I will never learn

Now I see the truth…I am the cataclysmic event
I am the vacuum in space that sucks the life out of love
I am the hungry black hole that extinguishes hope forever

Raging Waters...

I found myself lost on the raging sea of purgatory
There was no choice but to ride out the hurricane of my life
The massive storm kept me from reaching the coastline's safety
Gale force winds blew me further offshore, there was little hope of ever being saved

Staying afloat against all odds, somehow I managed to survive the ruthless maelstrom
Time ate away at my flesh until I was emaciated beyond recognition but my spirit remained
For months I was trapped in the deep valleys created by the mountainous blue waves
Every time I paddled up the face of the gigantic walls of water the ocean would become angry
Helplessly drowning, the salty foam would overpower me and force me under once again

When all hope was lost miraculously I found myself on the crest of a mammoth tidal wave
From this precarious perch high above hell on earth I saw that the skies were beginning to clear
With this new knowledge, my faith in myself was reborn and I fought Poseidon's treachery
The clouds parted allowing the sparkling sunlight to dance playfully on the calm sea's surface
In that pool of light there was a faithful captain who rescued me from my watery grave

Monday, November 19, 2012

Revisiting why I wrote this book...

You may be asking yourself why I wrote this. I can tell you that it wasn’t for fame, fortune or self indulgence. I wrote this for you. I believe a whole generation is living in the dark because parents have chosen not to talk candidly about their teenage experiences. Not wanting my daughter to follow in my footsteps, I began sharing stories of my struggles in the hopes that she would be more prepared than I was. I have always been open with her, and she was the one to encourage me to tell my story. 

The one thing that makes me crazy is that people constantly say that the high school years are the best of your life. I strongly disagree, because growing up fucking sucks! It is the hardest thing you will ever do, because you don’t yet possess the knowledge, wisdom, or means, to do it well.  Bearing my heart and soul in this memoir, I have revealed things that I have never told another living soul, and written things I could never speak out loud. While putting these words out in the open for the whole world to read, I have cried.

Surviving even after self-sabotage, my life took many twists and turns, but I came out on the right side of things. However, I do have scars even though they are hidden deep in my psyche. After all these years, it was still hard to revisit some of the more difficult experiences. Somehow, I found the guts to do it.  The basics of my philosophy are simple, but attaining this wisdom wasn’t. Life is a journey well worth taking, so don’t give up and hide from it, because tomorrow really is a clean slate.

Relationships are the real mystery. Finding true love isn’t a sprint, it is a bloody marathon, there will be blisters and calluses, but if you pace yourself you will make it to the finish line. How do you know when you’ve reached the finish line? You’re friggin exhausted, but feel great, there is someone keeping pace with you, and suddenly you’re not compelled to run  anymore.

Unsure if I am a good roll model, it doesn’t bother me if some people hate this book; it is me raw, uncensored and at times difficult to swallow. However, it is the honest truth, something most people never want to share, even with themselves. What you do with this knowledge is your own business. Take the things that can help you and leave the  rest. If this rescues one other girl going down the same path, I did, it will all be worth it. Listen, I am not an expert on any subject except for my life.

I didn’t desire to preach about the dangers of drinking, doing drugs, sleeping around, and suicidal thoughts. I simply recounted the painful repercussions of all the mistakes I made. Life proved to be like a disastrous chain reaction, every event led into the next. Believing that I was just having fun and no one would get hurt was delusional. A fool, I was too close to the situation to see clearly; as you know, it is always easier to see someone else’s missteps.  Clearly, some of the shit I did in my past is embarrassing, reprehensible, and inexcusable.

I hope this book doesn’t glorify my actions, especially underage drinking and using illegal drugs. Reliving and admitting my failures wasn’t easy, but I won’t make any apologies for who I am or who I used to be. Regrets and guilt are counterproductive. What’s done is done, water under the bridge.

You can’t change the past, but you can try like hell not to make the same mistakes again. All that said, the confessions I have made will be a shock to my parents, and I am sorry for that. I meant them no disrespect. They did the best job they could with the knowledge they possessed. I have no animosity towards them, I was deeply loved.

I learned that life is a testament of your courage and strength, but if you let it, life can be nothing more than a sinister game of chance and the odds aren’t always in your favor. It is really all about choices. If you make the wrong one along the way it can destroy your future, or it can give you a shock back into reality.

Ultimately, you are the only one that can save you. You alone can choose not to drink or take drugs. You decide who can put their hands on your body. You are the one who has the power to pick up the pieces, and make a conscious decision to stop the self-destructive behavior.

Parents of teens, this can be a wake up call. Your teen might be  doing the same things that I did. If your kid isn’t acting out or getting bad grades delve deeper into their lives and read between the lines.  Don’t let them shut you out, there will be tiny hints. Make them talk about their feelings and listen with an open mind. It might be the hardest thing you will ever do, but at the same time, the most rewarding.  

Every life has meaning and purpose; I didn’t almost end up dead in a ditch somewhere for no reason. We are connected, not spiritually, but there is an invisible link between us. What we do to ourselves touches everyone around us. None of us are truly alone.

Feeling like I was the only who suffered the heavy pressure of never ending sadness, despair, and solitude almost killed me. Everything would have been immensely easier if I had reached out to someone. Asking for help doesn’t mean you are weak, it only proves you are smart.  My story is proof that you can live a real teenage nightmare and still have a productive, beautiful life ahead of you.

Coasting into mid life, all the mistakes I made are my own, but the hard lessons I learned can be yours. Once I share the wisdom I have acquired, in a sense I will have come full circle.  Please take care of the people in your life, and find the time to ask if they are really okay. Remember all we really are at the end is the relationships that we forge, they alone define us. Our mistakes ultimately vanish in the wind.

Tuesday, March 27, 2012

The Unspeakable Outcome of Bullying...

I have been neglecting this site and my book's ever changing messages.  I watched an episode of Anderson Cooper today and there was a piece on Bullying.  Most of my issues as a youth started with the simple act of being bullied by the popular girls in my school.  My book documents just how hurtful words can be and just how deeply they can attack a child's self esteem.  At 43 years old I finally know who I am and I can own all of it, the good, the bad and the very ugly.  I have copies of my book available and I will autograph a copy and send it off to anyone who wants to read it. 

Please contact me through my Twitter Account @KJones269

Tuesday, October 26, 2010

Chapter One: Last Days of Winter

A slick, black ink smothered everything.  The moonlight shrouded the world in ominous shadows like an overexposed negative.  There were no hopeful, vibrant colors, just shades of black and gray, that fit my mood perfectly.  Allowing the velvety dead of night to envelope and obscure me from everyone’s prying eyes, I was finally alone with my thoughts. 
Frigid that night, I enjoyed the tingly sensation of the beginnings of frostbite; it reminded me that, despite all I had endured, I was still amongst the living. Before me, I saw nothing but my breath dancing in a shapeless, ghostly mist.  It dispersed quickly, leaving me solitary once again.  It was the kind of evening where one could stray into the forest and never be heard from again.  No one would miss me if I slipped away into the icy nothingness.  Finishing my third drink, I effortlessly poured another; then, smiling at the idea of finally out-running my demons, I contemplated if I had the courage to just shut up and do it. 

On the fringe of the pitch black woods that surrounded the desolate junkyard, I anonymously sat, cloistered from my peers. Trapped, my legs were like roots buried deep in the ground. Eventually I’d have to return to the barren wasteland that had become my teenage existence, but- for now- I relished the quiet calm before the next approaching storm’s arrival.
Closing my eyes, I took a slug of the stiff rum punch clasped in my trembling hand.  When I threw my head back to swallow, I lost my balance, clumsily tumbling off the fallen log where I’d been perched all night.  Giggling like a Japanese-game-show contestant who’d just won a prize, I climbed slightly lightheaded and disoriented back up on the damp, rough bark. 
Staying focused was very important, as, passing out and freezing to death was not part of the plan.  I didn’t aspire to die like that.  Or did I?  Succumbing to the cold might have been the answer to my prayers.  Hypothermia would be an uncomplicated, peaceful escape and completely out-of-my-hands. 
As I swallowed another sip, the acrid fluid burned like hell.  Like an old friend that had come to care for me, the fire traveled all the way to the pit of my stomach before it was extinguished.  I knew the burn well.  It felt good, too good.  Painstakingly, I let my mind wander while enduring the countless minutes before the imminent sedation of my disheartened spirit. 
There was another late-winter storm coming; I could feel in the air that it would be the last before spring’s rebirth.  Soon, the clearing would be blanketed in pure white snow; once again, it would be as clean and untainted as I had been not-so-long ago.   Silently, I questioned how long it had been since that fateful night.  I honestly didn’t want to think about any of that.  I never wished to remember that night again as long as I lived, but that was impossible.  Obviously, it hadn’t been long enough to forget his disgusting hands all over me; I could still feel their grabbing. The vulgar event would be etched into my memory for all of eternity.  He had desecrated my soul with his immoral act. I would never be the same.  That innocent girl was dead, I was dead. 
The woods began to spin around me, not fast like a merry-go-round but slowly, like a panning movie camera, showing me what I had missed while I fantasized about getting lost.  Tall, ancient, leafless trees towered above me illuminated by only the moon’s muted, silver beams of light.  Appearing forbidding and unearthly, the crooked branches seemed to be pointing wretched, long, arthritic fingers at me, passing judgment and condemning me for my sins.  A chill migrated down my spine as fear engulfed me. 
Looking towards the small group of my peers that had assembled near the fire’s warmth and glow I hugged myself to fight the goose bumps that instantly covered my exposed flesh. Everyone knew monsters couldn’t hide out in the open because the light wards off evil.  Disastrously, I had already invited the monster into the sanctity of my soul.  After deliberating the possibility of joining them, I instead settled for voluntary exile.
Thankfully, the alcohol’s gratifying anesthesia-like qualities had begun surging through my bloodstream.  Courageously, I had waited for the numbness to arrive.  Not disappointed, I welcomed it with open arms.  Booze was the one thing I could count on, because it never let me down.  I had always found solace in being intoxicated, like a lover’s heart-warming embrace, it was a security blanket that kept me safe and sheltered from the outside world’s harsh realities.  Self preservation was tangled up in the drunken haze that I desperately thirsted for every minute of every day.  It had become a sacred haven where I didn’t have to constantly look over my shoulder for him.  
Sitting stoically, I reflected on the last few months and on how much I’d depended on alcohol to eradicate the growing antagonisms in my life. I never considered how horrible my hangover would be in the morning; as, the brief moments free-of-torment were always worth the throbbing headache.  When I was wasted, I could almost forget the unforgettable, even if just for an hour or two.  I could almost erase the memory of what his vile eyes had looked like that disgraceful future altering night. 
Arguing with myself about the reasons behind my drinking, I foolishly rationalized that I didn’t have any other choice if I were to remain among the living.  Drunk, I had the tenacity to handle anything; without inebriation, I would surely lose my mind.  Unfortunately, I’d have to come up with a new coping mechanism.  Undoubtedly, people would notice if I were trashed all the time.  Already pushing it, I couldn’t allow my parents to know about my flourishing addiction; as, they would demand I quit.  My love affair with the bottle was just another skeleton I’d have to keep locked up.  My closet was beginning to overflow with them like an earthen levee after a category five hurricane. 
With my thriving intoxication, my fears sluggishly faded away and melted into the void of space.  Hastily, I became defiant, selfishly not giving a shit what other people thought.  Not another living soul knew what had happened that fucked up night in my not-so-distant past.   No one knew what I had dealt with every day because of what he did to me- what I let him do to me.  I would take the truth to my grave.  It was a story I dared not share, a malignant tumor of knowledge that slowly killed me.  There was no cure for my agony, just temporary remedies that dulled the pain.   
Discovering what I’d been searching for at the bottom of a bottle, I was okay; this was my being okay. When the alcohol penetrated the deep recesses of my mind, I didn’t feel like a dirty whore anymore.  It was nice to drop my guard and be able to breathe deeply without flashes of pain bombarding me like rapid gunfire.  Freed from the guilt and shame I’d been carrying with me for weeks, I was just shy of delirious. Giddy and light all of a sudden- for a change, I wasn’t crying.  I couldn’t shed another tear because there weren’t any left.  My soul had become a dusty, infertile desert.  
Startled by voices beckoning me to go to them, I believed people were just being polite.  If they were really worried about me, they could have found me.  Waiting like a child in an orphanage on Christmas Eve, I wasn’t surprised when no one came bearing love’s gifts.  The echoes drifted away on the whispering wind like fog over the cold ocean, and the night’s eerie silence returned.  All I heard was the sound of my heartbeat, like a clock keeping time, even though time had stopped for me weeks ago. 
Reasoning if I were capable of moving on, I easily made out the faces of people I knew in the distance.  In the soft flicker of the fire, I saw that they were laughing and enjoying life. For a brief, fleeting second, I yearned to be with them.  Held captive by my thoughts, fears and insecurities, I was a shadow of my former self.  A sinister changeling that was evolving into something grotesque, I didn’t want them to see me like that.  They couldn’t ever know the unspeakable truth.  In a few minutes, I’d rejoin them and play the part of the party girl. It was becoming second-nature.   
For a fleeting moment, I couldn’t remember why I was so damn depressed.  Then it all rushed back to me and assaulted my repose.  He was why I was afflicted.  It all went back to that stupid night; I had made a mistake so epic that I would never out-live it, escape it, or forget it.  There wasn’t enough booze in the world to wash my slate clean.  The horrific event was still so vivid.  When I closed my eyes, I could smell and taste him on my lips.  I felt him inside me. 
My mind was still too clear. Leaning down, I picked up the bottle I’d hidden from my friends.  Carelessly, I sloshed the dark rum into my plastic cup, gulping it down.  On the edge of my peripheral vision, I focused only on the dancing orange flames and the brilliant sparks floating up into the heavens.  Dreaming of being one of those embers, rising up above everything, I privately feared my dejected soul would never float up.  In my heart, I speculated it would sink into the depths of hell and burn for eternity.               
In my state of semi-consciousness, I sensed it was getting late.  Remembering what waited for me at home, I didn’t want the night to end.  Though nice while it lasted, it always came to an abrupt screeching halt once I was alone in my room.  The emptiness always found me, like a ruthless bounty hunter, in the wee hours of the morning, proving my happiness was all a cruel illusion.  Seeing my forsaken eyes staring back at me in the bathroom mirror as I brushed my teeth clearly showed what lay buried in the depths of my psyche.  Pitifully, I was not fucking okay, not in any sense of the word.  I would never be okay again.  At only seventeen years old, I wished I were dead, but I didn’t have the guts to end it.
Glancing towards Heaven, I didn’t waste my time praying, but I did catch a glimpse of the stars for the first time.  How had I missed them?  The night sky was hauntingly beautiful and immense.  There were millions of twinkling specks, like diamonds haphazardly cast across the velvet ebony of space by some jilted immortal Greek God who had fallen for a human.  Like one of those distant stars way off in the corner of a never ending universe, I wasn’t the brightest one, not by a long shot.  I possessed just enough sparkle to catch someone’s eye if they searched really hard but, most people only saw what they desired to see or what I dared to show them.  Masterfully, I could be whatever or whoever they wanted me to be if I put my mind to it.
No one was eager to release my tarnished soul; it was caged up inside an elegant prison.  Wait, that wasn’t entirely true; there was a gorgeous guy who had been watching me since he drove up in a bright shiny new pickup.  I observed him on the other side of the blazing inferno where he stood alone like a sentinel.  Smirking suggestively in my direction, he winked.  Before looking away, I saw the lustful look in his eyes; I had seen that needful look before.  In my heart, I knew that he just wanted to use my body.  The men I met never cared about what lay beneath my sensual exterior. 
Considering taking a chance and going over to him, I imagined he embodied the power to take my mind off my heartache.  Not wanting to think anymore; I desired someone to think for me.  Unable to be alone anymore, the incessant suffering was tediously consuming me.  I desperately craved love and protection from the hungry, demonic wolves that had been snapping at my heels. 
The stranger would obviously expect something in return for his guardianship.  Men always did.  I was unsure of what I had left to offer.  The last thing of any value that I had owned was my virginity, and that was long gone.  Not caring anymore, I‘d give him whatever he asked of me, no matter how great the risk. 
At that instant, I would have sold my soul to Satan for a little salvation.  The guy’s commanding, piercing eyes looked as though he could have been Lucifer himself incarnate.  Unwilling to resist the temptation another second, I chose to go to him. On unsteady legs I seductively closed the distance between us.  He watched, mesmerized by me, his attention never wavering.
God had given me one gift and I was forced to use it to get what I required.  The powerful pull of his stare and his scintillating baby blues hypnotized me, luring me towards a new destiny.  The closer I got, the more he smiled.  Returning the gesture, I felt a flutter in the depths of my womanhood, catching me off guard.  Thinking that part of me had been snuffed out forever, I reminded myself that the flesh was weak and the very thing that got me into the horrendous mess from which I currently tried to find refuge from.
There was no more time to think as he put his strong hand out, and I shyly reached for it without hesitation.  He held my cold quivering fingers in his, introducing himself.  Adam asked if I wanted to go sit in his truck, and I shook my head in agreement.  Like a gallant knight in shining armor, he put his arm around my shoulders to shelter me from the cold.  Childishly, I let him…