Sweet surrender

His name was Ian, and he was bad.
He had the ultimate bad boy charm, and I wanted to be his. Soo very bad. His mohawk, and leather, and fast pounding punk rock, lurred me to him like a moth to a flame. Soo very bad.
Ian my bad boy. I think that Ian liked me, but he loved drugs more.
He would get very nasty when he was off his high, and I took his mean streak in stride. I was very hung up on Ian, soo very bad.
The hair pulling, and spitting, and kicking and cursing were his way to keep me in line, and I believe the way that he showed me that he cared about me.
I did alot for Ian. Things that I can not even write about, things that are against the law, soo very bad.
Ian had a good business sense to him, he knew how to gain, with out a great deal of investment on his part, soo very bad.
Way back then when I was in my teens I believed that it was safer to be bad than good. I had bad ass friends, with no morals, or goals. I was like them.
The only thing that I didn't take into consideration back then that I would still be alive today, and that I would have to deal with the emotional, and spirtual side affects of my doings. I try, I attempt, I make an effort, but I always feel like two parts of a whole. Her, the one that was soo very bad, and me the one who is struggling to move on in peace.
I don't see myself as a victim of others. I do think that I was a victim of circumstance most of my life. Most people will argue that I always had a choice. And to them I say, none of you were in my shoes,or in my survival show. I have always had leaders and I have always followed, it just less hassel for a girl like me.
A girl who was soo very bad.