Cam-Girl First Entery
C-GIRL: Birth on Victory Day, 9th May 1984, by Nok
This is the story of me, Cam-girl. Why do I need to tell you my story?
And why should you want to read it? Because it is a story about
growth. A story about how I came to be what I am. A girl who performs
on webcam from wherever I happen to find myself. For money. A
Cam-girl. Accompany me on the strangest journey ever t hat led me to
be what I am today. But there are others, you may think, what's so
special about me? Because I am talented. And I've got brains and
use them. I have not only been to the abyss and back. I'm not only
a survivor, a victor ( a word that has special meaning for me as
you'll see), but I am able to report intelligibly what it's
like in the abyss and what I've seen there and how I managed to
survive Humble, as you've by now noted I am not. Why should I be?
I am a miracle. And where others work their butts off for 20
hours a day 20 days a month. I am in full control of my life
and can reflect on and tell what's truly going on. Only days ago-
on the 15th of January 2015- I killed my love. See? I tell you
all. I promise to tell you the truth about my f***ed up
life!
My first name is Natalia. That's my real name. I
might just as well have been named Victory, since I was born on
Victory day, May 9th 1984, the when Russia triumphed over ...
But it was unnecessary to name me that. I was already Victory. I came
earlier than expected and was at 1984 x g... seriously underweight,
but when I arrived at 16.00 exactly (as my mother told me) after an
easy birth, probably because I was so small, a miracle happened: I
lived. My mother Kazakova (Today Razvyaznaya) Valentina Sergeevna was happy, she wanted a
child, me, more than anything. Yet she did not name me Victory, but
Natalya. Why? Simply because that name was the first
name she heard immediately after I was born A nurse came over and
spoke that name as she picked me up. There was no family with my
mother. Not her parents. Not my father. She had given birth alone,
with her only the nurse and her daughter. My mother
had wanted to call me Maya or Victory. But the nurse's little girl
announced my early arrival in this world by calling her ("Mama,
mama" and as I was separated from my mother the first
word that drifted into her consciousness was the nurse hushing
daughter by name. "Natasha!" was what she said. Short for
Natalya.
My mother was alone, but for sensing the comforting
presence of her friend Nadja Kostrova in the hospital, who, also highly
pregnant, was still waiting to give birth to her child, The two best
friends had both hoped to give birth on Victory day, but it
was my mother and I who won. Friend child of her , whom she named Nadya would be born a full two days later, on May 11th, too late
to be named Victor/Victory.
I was my mother's
first child. She did not have children before except a son who was
born dead almost exactly a year before my birth.
But she had little time to be happy. She and my father Makyan Alexander Razmikovich were always fighting. All the way home from the hospital to the
village Vasilevskoe (Kurba) they fought bitterly with one another.
When they approached a bridge my mother was scared to pass the bridge
with me as the bridge was in ill repair. My father tore me from her arms with the words:
"She's my daughter. If she's a bad daughter I'll just
stand on one of her legs and pull up the other and tear her
apart." He was Armenian, you see. Jumping with me in his arms he
left my mother behind to cross the bridge on her own.
That
was typical. Always they were fighting. What were they fighting about?
What were they NOT fighting about? How could it be any different in a
marriage between an Armenian man and a Russian woman? It was a wonder
that they married at all, that they fell in love, and that it lasted
long enough for them to have children together. But they got divorced
after I, their first child was born. So, even though they had another
child my sister Inna Kazakova , I am the last
with my father's name. It's an Armenian name. I still
don't want to change it. Makyan. I believe it means
'doll' as in 'mannequin'. Why keep the name? It's
a part of me and of all that made that I became who I am
now.
Until 2010 I knew nothing about my father, who was my
father or where my father ...lived/was?. I was going to be
alone, growing up without family. All of them believing or pretending I was dead. Only much late we found out that we all were alive, except my father.