Suicide Girls Levee Nobody Home
It's the same with these suicide girls calling me up. Most of them are so young. Crying with their hair wet down in the rain at a public telephone, they call me to the rescue. Curled in a ball alone in bed for days, they call me. Messiah. They call me. Savior. They sniff and choke and tell me what I ask for in every little detail. It's so perfect some nights to hear them in the dark. The girl will just trust me. The phone in my one hand, I can imagine my other hand is her.
Missy also said the name describes girls who commit \"social suicide\" by breaking away from societal norms, and created the site \"as a place to celebrate beautiful women who choose not to fit into the norm and as a corner of the internet where outsiders could congregate and be appreciated for being themselves\".
Jim Cobb is a New Orleans native son and the son of a native son. So there never was any question that he would go home again. Still, the catastrophic flooding made him take stock. His law clients were scattered. His house in Lakeview, eight blocks south of Lake Pontchartrain and farther below sea level than the lowest point in the heavily damaged Lower Ninth Ward, was a sodden ruin. His children's schools were closed. Their pediatrician had committed suicide days after the storm.
Debbie and her girls -- Tiffany, 16, and Amanda, 13 -- could hear the churn of helicopters overhead, evacuating neighbors near their house on Arts Street. The sound only reminded them that nobody had come to their rescue.
At that time, stories of life and death and desperation were taking place across New Orleans, after Hurricane Katrina's fury swept through the Gulf Coast, raising the waters and breaching the levees that kept the city and its homes above water.
Now, she said her girls are all she needs. When she got pregnant with her first child, she quit her job as an accountant to be a homemaker. Surprised by how much her youngest, Amanda, loves kids, Debbie's dream now is to live long enough to have grandchildren.