Faerie Onyx

Tis The Faerie
2001-12-03 20:19:40 (UTC)

Playing With Me

When I was in sixth grade, I dated a guy for seven
months. For that age and maturity level, that is a long
time. Great Goddess, did I love that boy! But people
were jealous. They were jealous of how happy we
were together. They were jealous of me because I had
him. They were jealous of me because I had looks.
They were jealous of him because he had me.
Jealousy is the root of all problems. People started
spreading rumors about what a slut I was, and who I
had slept with, so he and I broke up. I was devastated,
and so was he because he couldn't believe that I'd do
that to him. I still love him because he was my first
love. No one ever forgets their first loves. I still
sometimes get phone calls from unknown callers
tormenting me about what a slut I am. It hurts. I even
changed my phone number, and I'm still tormented.
Most of all, I think I torment myself. I wish that I weren't
so pretty, or that I hadn't chosen that one boy. I'm so
self-critical, but I just can't stop being critical of myself.
Now whenever I do something wrong (or that I believe
is wrong), I call myself a whore or a slut, and I still can't
believe how much it hurts. I hope that this makes
whomever is reasding this think about all of the girls
they've called whores or sluts, even if you think they
deserve it, it still hurts.

~Faerie




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