Chapter Two-The Struggle is Real

Angelica was a prized fighter at heart since her youth; much like a Filipino Ronda Rousey.

In her mother’s womb she was always restless; a kicker they’d call her.  She was socially active  and had an hourglass contour to accentuate her well defined figure, like that of a ballerina.  Her thick black hair was especially long, flowing all the way down to her heart-shaped posterior.

In school she would challenge and taunt her teachers with a barrage of questions and smart (know it all) remarks to which their faces would turn red as a cherry.  She craved being the center of attention since in her mind she owned the room and demanded that much more of herself to survive in reality.  It was this fight and her determination to succeed in all things that came before her which strengthened her character within.  

Immature and insecure boys would find her intimidating; that inner part of herself, the tomboy.  She would daydream that she was a ferocious lion; predatory in nature only towards young boys or girls who loved to challenge her femininity.  That day would come as she shouted across the open sea with such intensity, roaring as a lioness on the prowl.  

Her domination over men would not only be about control but over the fear of losing her counterpart in a lustful game of chess.

No mountain would be too high, no ocean too wide, and no tsunami gale force winds too mighty for her to reach that ‘one thing’ which kept her mind focused and her petite, athletic frame fit for the endurance ahead.  The journey would begin from her carefree and careless youth during her days frolicking and skipping through the mango and coconut groves of her family’s plantation to the nightlife of the big city. The struggle was real and intense, but so was her hustle to make her dream a reality in this life she had within her grasp.

The seedy and bustling club scene was frequented by foreigners from the Pacific Rim to the Golden Coast of California.  It would pay more in one night than a whole month’s wages in her local province since to the foreigner men money meant power, control, and satisfaction. The city of neon lights would fill her mind with anticipation and expectancy even in the filthy smog filled haze of one night stands.  Her pimp would be the night, but the spectacular full moon would be her guiding light.  

She learned to compartmentalize her true inner-most feelings even in relationships with men outside her professional work environment.  She favored the American businessman or teacher most of all who frequented the karaoke bars since they tended to be most generous and amiable to her precious commodity; her physical body and angelic singing voice.

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