True Confessions Read Online Free

judgment due to depression. However, I was determined to make a fresh start without Drake in my life and in my dreams.

Chapter 5
     
    Dear Journal,
I should start by telling you something about myself. Let’s see. There’s really not much to tell, not that’s interesting anyway. I’m pretty average in most ways and live a relatively tame lifestyle. I’m twenty-eight years old. Work as a senior relations service representative for a telecommunications company in Midtown. By the way, it’s a job I despise with a major passion, but I do my best nevertheless. It could be a cool job, but there is always so much drama going on with the women there. Trivial stuff at that. Why can’t women just get along?
Oh, I’m adopted. Mother and Daddy adopted me when I was two months old. I was born to a crack-addicted biological mother who simply gave me up at birth. Signed over her maternal rights. Just like that. With the snap of two fingers. In the blink of an eye. She signed over her maternal rights, and I became a ward of the state of Georgia. She wasn’t even sure who my biological father was. That line on my birth certificate was left blank. Recently, more and more, I have thought about hiring a detective agency to locate my birth mother because I have many questions. I even researched a few agencies online in the metro Atlanta area but I haven’t made a decision, mainly because I don’t want to hurt Mother.
I don’t get it. And believe me, I’ve tried. How can a mother, any mother, give birth to a child she has carried for nine months, felt her moving around inside her, bonded with, and then, then…just give her up like she’s dumping the trash? Me, I could never do that in a million years. It’s actually ironic, my life didn’t mean anything to my biological mother and I guess it didn’t mean anything to me either since I tried to take it.
Luckily for me, Mother and Daddy came into my life when I was two months old. Mother said she took one look at me lying all alone in the hospital crib, underweight because I was born premature, and knew she had to have me to love, shield, and nurture. Mother said she’d never forget how small, fragile, and vulnerable I appeared. Like I was calling out for her to love and protect me. And she did and hasn’t stopped loving me in all my twenty-eight years.
What else? I guess you could say I’m a loner. As I stated before, I don’t have many friends, male or female. That’s fine with me. I’ve halfway attempted to be friends with women at work, but in the end, there are too many jealousies, insecurities, and backstabbings going on. Mother said I shouldn’t stress or worry about it. She claims these women are jealous of my good looks. I don’t know, I think I have average looks. I’m about five feet seven, very fair skinned, long, naturally wavy brownish-red hair, hazel eyes, and a slim frame. Mother is always saying I could be a model with my long legs, slim waist, and exotic looks.
Anyhow, whatever the reason, I choose to go to work, do my job, and leave. My coworkers wrongly assume I’m a snob since I won’t get involved in their gossip, after-work activities, and petty ways. Until a year ago, most weekends found me at home curled up with a good book.
Occasionally, Taylor, a college friend, would convince me to hit a local nightspot with her. I’d tag along to please her, even though the club scene wasn’t really me. Clubbing wasn’t my thing. Typically, I’d sit in the corner for most of the night, nurse one drink, and turn down dances left and right. Taylor, on the other hand, lived on the dance floor and loved the attention men showered on her.
I’ve never been good with men, either. I’ve never had problems attracting men, only with attracting the right ones. I honestly think I have an invisible sign posted on my forehead that says: USE AND ABUSE ME. PLEASE . The wrong ones flock to me like bees to honey.
After I met Drake, I thought all that had changed, that it