In the gulf of my school's library, where I remained until I
thought I’d died, I contemplated the common teen plight of virtues, love,
abandonment and why when I paint my nails my cuticles always get in the way.
To be fair, I’m heartbroken, like, eighty-seven percent of
the time. Heartbreak catalysts aren’t limited to common male rejection. I get
downhearted over mp3’s that won’t download and holes in my leggings; it’s all
something to shed tears about.
Recently, a boy who I kissed twice was caught holding hands
with another lady and I immediately sent the text, “I belong in a brothel and I
will never be loved” to seven of my friends.
My favorite reply was “Yo, he’s gay tho.”
God, I have the best friends.
I hate being a girl because I’m just intrinsically stupid
and desperate.
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