Party Over

By Lyniece Rogers

A party girl who once had it all, lost everything in a blink of an eye. What does one do when she loses the only person she could depend on, and is left to face this cold, cruel world alone? She finds people aren't who they portray themselves to be, and love seems non-existent. But she manages to fix herself, which ended up being the toughest job ever. With loss after loss, dealing with depression, anxiety, and the stresses of being a single mom, she was not defeated. Failing was not an option! Not everyone can make it through a dark hole filled with unbearable pain, abuse, betrayal and heartbreak but she did —and with a smile on her face.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Jun 19, 2021
• ISBN: 9781098381677

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All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

ISBN: 978-1-09838-166-0

eBook ISBN: 978-1-09838-167-7

Our lives begin to end the day we become silent about things that matter –Martin Luther King

For Deborah, and Lyndon.

Table of Contents

Blood..

Ladies Free before 12

My Funny Valentine

Besties

She’s Gone.

Savage

2 Guys and A Girl.

Soulmates.

Charlottes web.

Party Over.

Blood..

My mother had four girls. Four different personalities and four different walks in life. Me being the youngest I didn’t get to experience sharing clothes, talking about boys, and fights around the house. My sisters are much older than I, so the difference in age played a major part in our bonds. Being the baby has its perks, along with its downs. I loved being thought about first and how my mama always made me a priority. I’d get things the others wouldn’t, and I was raised some what differently they were. I didn’t have anyone to dress alike. I didn’t have many chores and wasn’t really forced to work.

My sisters was raised with mom in her prime. She was working, taking care of home and handling her business. When I arrived, mom slowed down with working, and started living off of almost every bit of government assistance she could find. So I didn’t witness that hard working woman. I grew up with the mom who stayed home, cooked every night and lived beyond the means of her social security check. Even though I knew my mom was a hard worker, we still had downfalls. We were homeless before. She used WIC and food stamps. Yet she made sure it never affected me.

We always had a Christmas, and thanksgiving didn’t miss.

The stigma that comes with being the youngest took a toll on me when I started getting older. I started finding myself and was trying to figure out who I was, and at an early age. I knew I wanted to be successful like my oldest sister. I wanted to be gentle like the second oldest, and fly like that middle child. I knew I wanted a lifestyle that consisted of happiness and good times, even if that meant doing the things that my mother, and my siblings weren’t used to. Mom didn’t dress me up like the others, and I was never about to consider a branch in a service. I don’t even believe I got the structure my older sisters had because of the time difference in when we were raised. I think mom was more strict with them, and even though I think she was strict with me, there was a difference. My sisters knew what going to work was, and cleaning up after themselves. That’s all they seen my mama do. Me on the other hand, my mama did it. She was always home, so that’s all I knew.

I was in girl scouts, after school programs at churches. Summer camps, and cheerleading. I’d get everything I wanted if I just did good in school. She was giving me $100 allowances, but she never came to any events. It was high school when my mom showed up to one of my talent shows, because I was the captain of the dance team. I started finding who I was, which then made tension between my mom and I. Of course I started feeling myself, the boys are feelings me and I’ve made new friends that I considered my sisters.

Nobody could tell me anything, and because I was still considered the baby everyone had an opinion about how I needed to live my life. Mom would talk shit about me every chance she could on that house phone. From my sisters to her