Goodbye Lullaby

2:47 AM

I can't even look at myself the same anymore. When I stare at the girl in the mirror I feel disgust. I never asked for this though. I was always a good person, or at least tried to be. Before all this I was pretty much a wall flower. Had a few close friends and people knew of me, but I was never on the top of the list to some hot party with all the jocks and cheerleaders.

Except I got invited to one. Just one. I couldn't even describe to you how excited I was. This party pretty much determined if I would ever be invited to another one again. Maybe to people somewhere else this train of thought would be considered ridiculous, but come on? Are you telling me not once have you ever wished you were them? Not once have you ever dreamt about being like them or just being around them? They're like these majestic creatures that no one can figure out because only they get to be considered "popular". So yes I channelled my inner girly girl and spent hours just figuring out my outfit. Then came my hair and finally my make up. This was a two day process of decision. Some serious business. But finally I was content and feeling more confident than ever.

Until I got past the front door. I couldn't help but feel so out of place. These people were so experienced in everything. Relationships, sex, drugs, drinking, gambling, even just pretending that things were normal, they were all so good at it all. And then there's me. Never had a boyfriend. Never had sex. Never tried drugs or cigarettes. Rarely drink. Don't even know how to play poker. I spend my time reading Cosmo to "prepare" myself, telling myself that I will be the perfect girlfriend. My friends and I go shopping or watch reality T.V. and talk about which guy we think is the hottest. I don't do this kind of stuff, but that's for my own personal reasons.

I remember feeling jittery so I figure a swig of beer would cool down the nerves. Well apparently it took six beers before I felt sane. My world at that point was a blur. But I do remember everything. I remember failing miserably at beer pong, I remember Corey telling me it was okay and pulling me to the side. I remember us sitting on the couch and him telling me I was beautiful. I remember dying inside because a guy has never said that to me. I remember his Armani shirt pressed up against me as our mouths met. I remember being tangled around him, his cologne muting all my senses. I remember his hand gently wrapping around mine as we walked to a bedroom. I remember sitting there, nervous. I remember us kissing again as his hands explored my body, every touch seeming like it was setting me on fire. I remember my shirt hitting the floor as I laid on the bed. I remember the panic. I remember telling him to get off, I couldn't. I remember that just as he got off the door slammed open. I remember a girl screaming at the top of her lungs and making a reach for me. Didn't they break up? Apparently not. I remember feeling used and lied to, running out of the bedroom with tears falling down my face. I remember looking back expecting Corey to be chasing after me telling me it was okay, he liked me. But he didn't. He was still in the bedroom trying to plea to the little brunette in a really short skirt. So I ran and just kept running until I was home.

But according to everyone I missed something, according to everyone i'm a liar.

I walked into school trying to keep my head down. I'm sure people would understand. I was pretty drunk and it was his fault. Everyone saw him make the move on me. But apparently this is a lie. Apparently I was the dumb slutty boyfriend stealing bitch. Not only that, but a picture of me without my shirt was circling around the school. I guess I sent it to Corey?

Everyone looked at me that day like I was diseased. All of the girl's friends whispered under their breath about how much of a whore I was. All of Corey's friends high fived him for not only getting his girlfriend back but also getting away with having sex with me. That's right, apparently i'm not a virgin.

Usually I sat at the front of the class but I couldn't handle the stares and remarks so I began to sit in the back and eventually just didn't show up. Across my locker was written "whore" and "bitch" which was done just before lunch so that it could be displayed to the entire school. I searched for my phone to see if my friends had texted me to see if I was okay, but I had nothing. No missed calls or text messages. And there, across the hall from me were my friends shaking their heads in disbelief that I would do such a thing.

Even the bathroom became a hell hole rather than a safe haven. Across the metal stall walls was my name written down with rumours and lies. People asking how I could even show my face today. People claiming this isn't the first time either. One even told me to kill myself.

I think that's the first time it ever crossed my mind.

Do you know what it's like when you have no one? When everyone just assumes and no one even asks you if you did these things? When your own friends walk away because you're considered the most hated person in school so they can't be around that. When they chose their reputation over an eleven year friendship. Do you know what it's like to have every pair of eyes stare at you, piercing through you as they judge your every move. To have your name sprawled on every stall with words that you begin to call yourself because you believe it. Do you know what it's like to be where I am? Where girls call you names and guys think that because you're a slut they can touch you wherever. That it's okay to slap your ass in the middle of the hall. It's okay to refer to you as not someone but something. A used toy.

Well you don't, but every morning I wake up to this and every morning I search for a reason to keep fighting. But I can't. So when does it become the last straw?

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