Post by Deleted on Jun 26, 2015 6:28:59 GMT
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_____________________________________  THE FIRST Not the first girl, not the first kiss, not the first fuck. She was the first person I can ever remember truly envying. Not because she had something I truly wanted. Not because she really had anything worth being jealous over... It was just a phase. She was this cool girl who ran around school not caring about anything. At least, that's how it looked to all us little people. She wore clothes from a thrift store, she was smoking cigarettes in between classes by fourteen, she listened to underground bands and snubbed anything mainstream. She was that girl. And I wanted to be her. I wanted to wear torn jeans and thick black eye-liner, I wanted to smoke and drink and pass the time not caring about my peers. I was so desperate to be her, that I took up smoking and ditched everyone I once called a friend. 'Notice me,' I screamed, without ever parting my lips. But she didn't care. At all. She didn't even notice when I dyed my hair and pierced my nose. She was always way too fucked up to care. I learned a valuable lesson. _____________________________________  I. TIMBER, PITBULL ft KE$HA; II. BLURRED LINES, ROBIN THICKE; III. WORK BITCH, BRITNEY SPEARS; IV. SUGAR, MAROON 5; V. UPTOWN FUNK, BRUNO MARS ft MARK RONSON; VI. TALKING BODY, TOVE LO; VII. BAD BLOOD, TAYLOR SWIFT; VIII. WANNABE, SPICE GIRLS; IX. SINGLE LADIES, BEYONCE; X. HEY MICKEY, TONI BASIL; XI. FANCY, IGGY AZALEA ft. CHARLIE XCX; XII. SUMMER, CALVIN HARRIS. _____________________________________  THE SECOND They say that the middle is insignificant. The middle child constantly gets ignored, no one eats the middle of a cake, no one wants to sit in the middle of the backseat of a car, no one wants to be in the middle. Everyone wants to be a first... or a last. She wasn't the first anything, she wasn't the last either, but she was the most important. She was everything the first wasn't. Blonde, charismatic, a real people-person. But she had adapted to be that way. Years of bleaching her hair, slaving over her hair and make-up. She mastered the art of fitting in in a status-charged atmosphere. She approached me one day, sans her little gang of blondes and said 'You look like shit.' Those four words were equally crushing and illuminating. I wanted to be her. But unlike my last endeavor, I wouldn't be eaten alive by my poor decisions. I watched hours of tutorials, wasted every penny I managed to scrounge up, I found a way to fund my new obsession. By the end of the year, I was strolling by her side, not in her shadow. It was easy. _____________________________________  _____________________________________  THE THIRD and most important lesson I had to learn involved a man that I never should have been involved with. But I don't regret it, not even for a second. See, there's so much that fucked our... partnership up. He was charming, handsome, he had the kind of way with words that would have Angelina Jolie dropping her panties while Brad looked on in envy. But he wanted me. Me. I don't know if I can ever sort through the rubble to figure out if there was ever love, if we ever really cared for one another, but in the moment, I didn't care. He looked at me the way every woman wants to be looked at. Like he wanted to ravage me and didn't care who saw it. Somehow, he restrained himself, for a time. Until a rainy day when he made the mistake of asking if I wanted a ride home. It took minutes to convince him to let me ride him instead. His lust or, perhaps, guilt drove him to do things for me. Giving me a passing grade in his class, buying me jewelry. I would never forget the high, the danger. He could lose everything and that was... exciting. _____________________________________
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