I used to like the cheep highs that I got. Cheep ha! They seemed cheep to me then. But hell they were good. Everything was better with the drugs. Sex was better and hell its hard for me to imagine sex being any better. Some made me feel all warm and fuzzy inside, like my sister used to say a good romance novel made her feel. Some made m feel dizzy like I was falling into a pit. But a good pit. And then there was the best, the ones that made everything an orange or gold glow. I lost track of what I did and how they felt. Well until I ran out of cash.

Then things slowed down. Everything was painful, my hair hurt, my fingernails growing felt like a thousand knives growing out of my skin, you don't even want to know how lout my skin cells were. I think that's when I got kicked out of the house. I didn't really know anything then. But hell I don't like to think about then.

On the streets I needed the drugs, I guess I was an addict. Didn't seem like it though. I didn't look like the ugly men on the streets that people pointed at and laughed about silently. I was still me, beautiful and Bi.

I did mention that, right? I'm Bi. Boys, girls, can't get enough of them. So my job naturally turned from stealing purses from people, mainly Chinese woman. They carry a lot of cash and are so petrified that they don't put up much of a fight. Oh yeah, job change, I started turning tricks. I fucked someone, got the cash bought whatever drug was closest. Then one day I looked around and found that I was making a lot of money. A whole lot of fucking money. So I stopped the drugs.

I'm not saying I turned my life around or any shit I still fucked anyone for the right amount of cash but I didn't spend it all on drugs. I would get maybe a hit or something to feel good but not as much as I did before. I had stopped stealing entirely. It wasn't too bad for a while.

I had a few bad johns and there was a few pervs here and there. Like this one guy who fucking pissed on me. That was gross, he had this fucking huge knife and threatened to kill me unless I did what he said. I near shit myself I was so petrified. Of course I did what he said. Then he fucking slashed me! I got out in time before he killed me!

Anyway, he was the exception and I got paid big bucks for that one. Normally guys just want a blowjob or to be ass fucked. I don't get many girls. Its strange, you would think there would be more girls trying to get laid easy, but not really.

The guys who I hung out with were pretty cool. Not a lot of white boys out here. My first nickname was "White boy!" but then a kid whiter then me got the nickname. So then I needed a nickname. One guy commented I was so hot I might get my self a dutch uncle. So they started calling me Dutchy. I never got a Dutch uncle.

Things were going pretty well I didn't have any more really bad times. I actually met a nice guy and we were having a good time. I didn't get aids and we weren't causing no one no trouble.

A bunch of us lived together; ya know a group, stronger like those fishies who swim in schools. All of us were either gay, bi, or cross dressers. One of the gangs didn't like us much I guess because they fucking attacked us. No guns thank god but a lot of clubs and bats, some lead pipes and knives. I got a nice black eye and a pretty scar on my back from them. They tore down out tent City and burned one of my friend with a paper clip they had made to make it say "Qu' I don't think they got the idea of how long queer was versus hoe much of a paper clip they had. I don't credit them with being that bright. But they got the humiliation right. The poor kid had it branded on his ass. They got another one with a swastika.

After that life went pretty much down hill. Everyone started leaving. I stuck around the longest and started sucking the pills up. They helped a lot but I didn't have the cash again. Fucking sucked man. Then my life went to hell.

Another guy jumped me. He fucking took a club to my back. Nearly broke it. Had a beef with gay guys. I think he was gay. A lot of guys are like that. They'll get all mad at you because they wish they could be real about who they are. But this guy was really wailing on me. After he left (raping me before of course) I couldn't stand. I collapsed.

Next thing I know I'm in a hospital. Bellevue. Nice place. People taking care of me, found me new glasses, apparently the ass hole hurt my vision when he did that wonderful beating. Then they released me.

Three days later I blow it. I got caught by an undercover cop, brilliant huh? Any way. The judge notices my record, one drug charge and gives me a choice. Vins or Stoptville. Duh.

So I came here. Ah well Cest la Vie. Specs is cute and so is Queenie. Magic's good for a tumble and I'm happy. No drugs but hell I don't like them too much. No cash.

Author's notes: Okay here we go. I gotta upload this ASAP!! Dun own Dutchy or anyone but Magic.