My Platinum Jacket

By Angel Dust

The Jacket is a self made physical & mental apparatus, used to shield myself from predators and my own poor judgements. In a nutshell, it's a justifiable jacket.
For 10 years, the impenetrable platinum protected me. It guarded me from predators, suitors, involvement, accountability and myself. Because the only way any of the undesirable things could exist was if I allowed them. Creating the jacket was necessary to get me through the years, but now it’s time. Time to take it off. I guarded myself by wearing an armor of defense. I figured that, okay you’ve been greedy and licentious for the majority of your life, and it's gotten you no where. When will it end, if you're not actively taking measures to end it?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Angel Dust
• Release date: Dec 4, 2019
• ISBN: 9780463017906

Angel Dust

I'm an indie author. The experiences I write about in my non fiction novel(s), although negative, cold hearted and harsh, helped me to achieve the strengths I have today.

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Angel Dust

My Platinum Jacket

Protecting Myself From Us

All rights reserved.

The contents of this book in any format may not be reproduced, distributed, transmitted, or otherwise used, except with the prior written consent of the Author, Angel Dust.

Although this is a work of non fiction, all names with the exception of the author have been changed. Any fictitious name, similarity and or likeness to a character is merely coincidental.

Copyright 2019 Angel Dust

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This book contains profanity considered unsuitable for readers ages 18 and under. May be objectionable to readers of all ages.

Table Of Contents

Preface

Truths Be Told

Sustaining Celibacy

Extinguishing Xavier

Leave Me Alone Some More

Diabetical Dilemma

Unzipped

Wide Open

Free

Killing The Carb Cabinet

Why Not Me

Found

Twelfth

Preface

I've had to protect myself my whole life. From my parents, my relatives, my self and the other world. The other world was anyone outside of mine; that couldn't see that I was innocent, beautiful and talented.

I was all alone with myself, when it came down to it. I kept myself separate to think of ways to stay safe. Hate hurts! I wore a band-aid for most of my life, and only traded it for this jacket.

A need and desire to protect myself has been the agenda for as long as I knew how. Unfair treatment goes back as far as I can remember and it first came about at the hands of my mother.

She treated me differently than my siblings and I was too young to make sense of it then and don’t recall how it made me feel, but as I recall it now, it hurts. It sucks to be knowingly treated different while everyone else was favored.

According to my military birth certificate, I came into the world weighing 4 lbs 12 oz. I’m almost certain the other’s were at least 7 lbs or more. Why was I so little? Did you neglect yourself even in the womb to ensure I didn’t make it? Is a question I ponder every now and then.

One of the most haunting things I can remember, won’t go away. When I was kindergarten age, my mom was enrolled in cosmetology school. She used me as her test dummy, so anytime she wanted to try out a style or experiment for a grade or whatever, she’d call me into her room. One time she cut my hair and messed it up so bad, that I wore a wig to school. Yes in kindergarten.

The kids didn’t know if I was their peer or the substitute teacher. She often called me ugly. Told me that if a bird had my brain it would fly backward. Called me cousin it. She hated me. Is what it looks and feels like now.

A funny but true, now that I know better, harsh statement for her to say to me after being shot in the eye with black pepper, by a neighborhood kid; and came running in the house screaming at the top of my lungs and telling her about the ordeal; led to, That’s what the fuck you get. If you dumb enough to look down the barrel of a gun, you’re lucky he didn’t blow your got damn head off. I don’t recall any consoling.

Although she had a massive intolerance for our bullshit, I honestly don’t recall her ever hitting us. I think