I Want To Be Free – Lacie Grayson

I’m doing my best, to be normal

I’m a sex worker so, I won’t be. I’m a disabled girl, with an abuse history a mile wild. My adopted mom, two boyfriends. An ex girlfriend. I wonder if people can actually be nice to me. Society loves a disabled kid, and assumes men still have value.
Women, not so much.
I wanted to be an artist. I wrote entire worlds before my last two exes. That was the saddest part for me. I was too broken down

When, I tell people I’m erotic hypnotist. The look of confusion is almost priceless.

However, when I tell people my ex girlfriend screwed up my brain with hypnosis it gets messy. To explain someone triggering my brain to seizure. It’d be bizarre to hear, had I not had it happen. I couldn’t tell my mom, she doesn’t approve of lesbians. So, I bear it alone.

My ex boyfriend was a meth addict. He used me to filter bitcoin, because I had a lot of money being a sex worker. Submissives sending cash, strangers looking for btc sending giftcards.

I remember one month I paid my rent by buying my landlord a couch and bed with gift cards because my cash flow sucked.

The two overlapped. I would feel bad

I had two shitty people saying they loved me. It felt so jarring, because I know I’ve never had love. I do know love shouldn’t feel like a mouthful of razors. But as an adult, that’s how it felt. When I compare it to my childhood? That was a broken heart held together by glitter glue.

Neither felt good.

I miss the glitter glue heartbreak feeling. I think I’d kill for that love right now.

I know I’m not the love letter receiver type. I do write them to demons telling them I love them begging for help. Sometimes they come through. One time, I was in Australia with my ex boyfriend. I was terrified. He threw me in the hotel’s coffin like bathtub, left me there, knowing my disability would keep me in place.


I had to wait hours til my friends came back. One of them pulled me up, freeing me and almost breaking my foot. I knew I’d leave.

Bitcoin and being able to have spending money be damned.

Maybe I should prioritize myself. How can you, if you’ve never had the tools. When I came back to America. I bought skin care, because I couldn’t tell anyone I left a meth addict, let alone I dated one. So, I faced it alone.

Both of my exes, have a paranoid theme they care more about public perception. The ex boy considers meth a weekend drug. He can stop at any time. My aunt and mother did coke like that in the 80s. I know neither is a “casual” use thing. I also learned you don’t argue with addicts.

I spent so much of my life hoping someone was sober enough to help me get in my wheelchair so I could DO more for myself and them.

My ex girlfriend doesn’t consider herself an abusive person, simply because others hurt me worse. I argue, I deserve no abuse. I shut down, because maybe that’s something I can’t get.

I refuse to give up.

I have learned that love is a weapon, and horror is very similar.