Tuesday, February 14, 2006
Slut
You shouldn't even know what that word, means, should ya?
I mean, look at you....what are you, 11, 12 maybe?
But tonight is gonna be so great.....so you put on your tight spaghetti with plunging decolletage, you bought it specially for that feature......and your denim mini skirt, you're SURE it'll attract the kind of attention you want....
You slowly start painting your face now....your current complexion will never do, so out comes the foundation and powder that they showed you how to use to make yourself prettier. Your lips don't look full and sexy, not at all....but you can fix that, you have your very own lipstick. You're a big girl, and big girls have their own characteristic shade of lipstick that you now possess: a shade only known as whore red.
You have high heels. Damnit, they hurt....but they'll have to do. No matter that you had to buy two sizes bigger because they didn't stock small enough sizes....kiddie sizes they said. You fumed while they laughed. You'd show them.
......INTERMISSION.......
You go to school the next day. The way you partied and danced and even drank, no one would think you had anything but a good time. They looked at you a bit strangely first, but then welcomed you in. You puked it all up, had a massive headache and you couldn't concentrate at ALL in school....no matter, you hated it. You were flunking every class so YOU didn't care.
And then you see him.
He was kind of the only guy you ever liked.......the one who'd never notice you. The one who seemed perfect in every way, the embodiment of everything you'd never be. His ideal girl, too, was so far above your head.
He's the reason, isn't he?
He's the reason you try so hard. Because you don't think he'll ever want you. Because once, a long time ago, he made fun of you. Since you heard the word "slut" roll off his tongue, nothing mattered to you anymore.
It didn't matter that friends you'd known for ages had been calling you that behind your back, what you didn't know couldn't hurt you.
It didn't matter that every time you looked in the mirror, you couldn't recognize who you saw.
It didn't matter that everything you heard about you was negative.
It didn't even matter that some random girl you didn't know, barely three years older than you, maybe less, was blogging about you.
I'm not judging you, babe. I don't even think you know me.
I certainly don't know YOU. I don't know if your dad ignored you as a kid, or if you had someone tell you you weren't worth it, or if there really is some guy out there who couldn't return what you felt for him....or even if you just want to be a slut.
But I DO know one thing.....no one is worth losing yourself. I don't know you. But I have this feeling, since I heard about you, that you did.
I heard that you go to secret places where you think no one will see you and smoke with guys fourteen years older....I heard that you call these guys your friends but that you know what they really want.
I'm sorry to sound so condescending. I don't really mean to. But I do wish that there was someone who could talk to you, to stop you from screwing up your future. If there was one thing I could say to you, I'd tell you to go back to school, lose those loser friends who bring you down, talk to someone and stop worrying about him.
Because darlin, he aint worth it.
Queen Sana at 8:22 PM
