Page 4 of Crown Jewels
I found myself wondering that a lot lately. My entire life was like a long game of survivor, and I wasn’t sure if I wanted to make it to the end anymore. What would be waiting for me, and would it be worth it? I wasn’t suicidal, I valued my life, I was just tired.
There were people out there who had it easy. Everything was handed to them on a silver platter. Not me. I had to fight for everything I had, including my tumultuous relationship with my father, who I hadn’t spoken to in months.
But when he called me months or even years from now, I would act like nothing was wrong. Because I was the happy child. The one who never complained or pointed out his faults. I was the good daughter that my father could depend on. And every time I plastered that fake smile on my face, I lost a little more of myself.
Sometimes I wished I was one of those people who had it easy. At least I wasn’t the only one who had thoughts like that. Everyone wanted to be someone else at some point in their life.
Even the most fulfilled person had fleeting thoughts of what it would be like to be someone else. The only time we were truly happy with who we were, was when we were too young to be tainted by criticism.
If a five-year-old was told to be themselves, they wouldn’t understand. The entire statement would be crazy to them, because how could they be anyone other than who they were? What would the world be like if we could all stay that innocent?
That in my opinion, would be true perfection. Everybody would be accepted, and that would be it. No judgement, or criticism, just peace.
The sad fact was, that would never happen. People would always knock others down to make themselves feel better because we all craved one thing. To be adored. It wasn’t power or money that drove humanity.
It was the want to be wanted. So, we changed ourselves, and adopted personality traits to draw others to us. And people pleasers were the worst. I had so many personas that I wasn’t sure if the real me existed anymore.
There was Emma the daughter, who told child services that she fell on the playground when they came asking questions at school. Then there was Emma the foster kid, who cleaned the house every day because if she liked cleaning, then maybe her and her brother would get a loving family.
There was Emma the sister, who did everything she could to take care of her older brother, who was always getting into trouble. And there was Emma the good student, who worked hard to make people proud despite the fact that no one ever was.
All those Emmas had one thing in common. Every thought they had or action they took was designed to make someone else happy.
Breathing out a sigh, I rolled a white stocking up my leg.
The fabric was soft and smooth against my skin, and for a second, I imagined that they were a gift from an admirer who wanted nothing more than to see me smile. While it was a nice thought, it was a complete fabrication.
The stockings were in fact a gift, but the person who sent them to me didn’t care if I smiled. The only thing he wanted to do was jerk off while he stared at me on his computer screen.
My brother called me a hopeless romantic, but what was wrong with that? What was wrong with wanting a man to look at me the same way men looked at their women in romance movies? Other girls had that, when was it my turn? Where was my knight in shining armor?
Now, I’d like to think I wasn’t a selfish person, but I really needed a break. Was it too much to ask for a little room to breathe? I suppose it wouldn’t matter, I’d fake being happy anyway. There were too many Emmas in my head for me to know what the real one wanted. I couldn’t even answer the simplest questions.
If someone were to ask me what my favorite color was, I couldn’t honestly answer them. But I would tell them whatever color I thought they liked.
Sighing, I looked in the mirror at the girl staring back at me with glitter shining on her cheeks.
I envied her. She knew who she was. She wasn’t lost like I was. Some would argue that that girl was me, or at least a part of me. But she wasn’t. Ruby Rose was confident, sexy, and desired by the men who watched her cam shows.
I was none of those things. My first show was a perfect example of that. No one wanted that kind of awkwardness. And so Ruby Rose was born. My second performance was much better. Mind you Emma wasn’t in that one. Ruby was.
When I signed on with Behind The Lens, I never imagined it would lead to any kind of success. Especially considering that one of my rules was that my panties stayed on. But there was a surprising number of men out there who got off on it, and all of them liked the virgin thing.
Adult entertainment was not the career I saw for myself, but I had to pay for college somehow, and it was lucrative. If my brother Mitch didn’t have a gambling problem, then we might actually have some savings.
Mitch was the one who got me into this. He didn’t pressure me or anything like that. In fact, he tried to talk me out of it when I signed up. But he wasn’t one to talk. At the time Mitch worked for the same company making movies, which were much more explicit than my shows.
It was his experience that made me feel safe enough to try it myself. Even his best friend Vahn—who also made movies—had nothing but good things to say. And Vahn was a judgmental asshole. He was also the one person I didn’t try to please.
Vahn already thought he was the greatest thing out there. He didn’t need me adding to his oversized ego. That, and the firstthing he said to me was ‘Why are you talking to me’. As if I had no right to, which was ridiculous considering thatIapologized forhimbumping in tome.
It was dumb luck that Mitch met him the same day, and they’d been inseparable ever since. He even lived with us.
At first things weren’t too bad, even with Vahn being our roommate. Then Mitch walked into a casino, and gambling took over his life. He started showing up late to work, sometimes too drunk to perform, and got fired.
When I showed up to pick him up that day, Lorna—one of the owners—pulled me to the side and talked about possible treatment. The Emma who wanted to please her boss, took the brochures and listened intently. But when we got home, the Emma who took care of her brother said nothing.
And so, we carried on. Mitch continued to gamble while I continued my college education, and did extra shows to cover his debt. I still had the brochures of the treatment centers Lorna recommended in my dresser drawer. Maybe one day I’d be brave enough to broach the subject with him?
