Diary of a Broken Doll

The Start of it All

Wanna hear a tale about drugs, lust, and betrayal? As far back as I can remember I have felt like I was fighting, fighting for peace, fighting for love, fighting for a place to feel secure. There were nights when I couldn't sleep for hearing my mama and her man argue, curse, and physically fight.

Nights where my nerves were racked, scared I would be awakened to my mother beating me about one thing or another. Years of feeling lashes of her belt across my back as she called me everything but her child. I felt everything but love. That's all I ever wanted.

Karma is definitely about her business. That's how a lot of people would describe me. I can't lie. I'm definitely about getting to the money. I found myself affiliated with some major hustlers only a couple years ago and now I'm deep in the game. I'm Courtney Jones to the people that know me well enough and at 23 years old I damn sure could be doing worse. I could be fucked up like a lot of these hoes I know. That's why I go so hard.

If need be I'ma do what I gotta do to get what the fuck I gotta get. Hell naw I ain't depending on a man to take care of me. Fuck laying on my back for a happy meal or sucking dick for an outfit out of a store where these broke bitches buy they food and they cheap ass clothes.

I could say I wasn't raised like that but that's a got damn lie. Most parents say do as I say and not as I do. Hey, I said fuck yo words and yo actions 'cause you ain't shit and ain't got shit worth a damn to show for the shit you do.

I grew up in a house where a bitch was glad to lay on her back for a few dollars and dropped to her knees at the very thought of one of her habits being supported. I almost went down that same past my damn self but I had a rude awakening and got on my shit.

That's why it ain't too many bitches I like or respect. These hoes so worried 'bout running down a dick or trying to trap a man with a fucking baby that he may or may not do a damn thing for. If the nigga do take care of the damn baby don't mean he want yo hoe ass and damn sure don't mean he gone change.

That's why I focus on doing me and getting mine. Fuck what the next muthafucka think. I got a small crew and we keep shit tight. My motto is get money or get gone. Shit that's where a lot of em go wrong. They wondering what a muthafucka can do for them. Bitch what can you do for yo damn self? That's been my focus. I remember when I use to be a lil girl in my mama house; she didn't give a shit about me so I had to give a shit about my damn self.

I sat at the kitchen table mindlessly twirling the locket on the necklace Grandma Jean gave me for my 12th birthday. On a normal Saturday evening, we would be baking pies for church or out working in the garden but that was all over. She looked like she was sleeping lying there in that pearly white box.

She was wearing her favorite white dress, the one with the pearl flowers beaded on the top. I knew she would want to be wearing it if that was the last thing people were gone see her in. Sitting on her head was the white hat with the pink and white orchids that all the ladies at church were jealous of.

Grandma Jean would say "They always asking where I get my hats. I special order my hats. I can't tell them where I get em. All they would do is mess em up with the wrong shoes anyway." Grandma Jean loved to dress up. She would make sure her shoes matched her dresses that even matched her purses perfectly.

"Courtney get yo bookbag," Mama sashayed into the kitchen wearing one of her short dresses Grandma always fussed about. She took the plastic cover off a cake and took a precut slice. Auntie Liz, grandma's sister from New York or somewhere just rolled her eyes.

"Come on don't just sit your ass there looking stupid" she fussed, as I pushed my chair back and went and got my bag off Grandma Jean's doorknob. "Your grandma got you thinking you ain't got to listen to nobody," she said slamming the car door after I got in. "Put on yo seat belt." She glanced in the back seat. She didn't need her seat belt, I assumed, as she peeled out of the driveway without it.

"I didn't mean to!" I clearly remember scrambling on the floor picking up the Apple Jacks that I had just poured.

​"Yes you did you! Yes hell you did little ungrateful bitch! I work all night long to feed yo lil greedy ass and you don't give a damn all you care about is what you want!"

​While spinning around to open the refrigerator, I had knocked my bowl to the floor, jarring my mama from her nap on the couch and throwing her into her usual rage. I attempted to get up from the floor and she hit me across my head causing me to plunge back to the floor landing hard on my butt.

​"You wanna live like a fucking animal, from now on stay your ass on the floor." She spat throwing the box of cereal on the floor. "Clean this shit up and keep yo nasty ass off my furniture." As if she lived in a mansion or something even close. I scurried around on the floor making sure to pick up every crumb. When I saw her flop back down on the couch, I took the box of cereal and went back to my room.

​ I shook my head to wipe out the memory of one of my last extended stays at my mama's house. That was more than three years ago. I pretty much lived at Grandma Jean's since I was old enough to go to school and rarely stayed at my mama's.

We both stayed with Grandma Jean for a while. They would always fight about my mama not watching me and always being gone plus Grandma Jean said she wouldn't help pay no bills all she wanted to do was lay up. After a while it was just me and Grandma Jean. All of that would be changing I guess.