I am a teenage girl, and so some may say it was inevitable
that sooner or later a post would crop up about boys. Well, consider it cropped
my dear readers, and welcome to my whimsical whine.
I have been played, and quite honestly, it's shit. Going
from talking to someone virtually every day to the point where if it wasn’t for
social media I would be questioning if they’re still alive, is not fun. Being
called the wrong name and being confused for another girl you are talking to,
is not fun. You, my dear sir, are not fun. For the sake of this post, I shall
call the mystery man Richard. Because the nickname for Richard suits you and
your personality pretty damn well.
Yes, I will miss our night-time cuddles in front of the
television, and the way in which you could make me feel as if you were the only
person who understood me. I will miss the excitement when we found something
else we both had in common, a love we both shared, making me feel like it was
you and me against the whole mad world. I will not miss the confident wandering
hands, despite the constant no's, or the mood swings, or the indirect tweets
about me from your friends. The snide remarks and my feeling obliged to put you
first, when other things were a lot more important. Being called “thirsty”,
“needy”, “clingy” and “desperate” just because I’m not afraid to ask how your
day has been and try to help wherever I can. For being a nice person.
I'm not a needy person, but I need to know when someone's
serious and when someone's just playing. I’m not desperate, I’m just desperate
to know who I can really trust and who is just talking to me for the sake of
it, using me and filling my head with fickle fantasies and nonsense. I’m guess
I’m just horribly human, and I’m fed up of apologising for that.
I hate the fact that because of you, whenever I hear my
phone buzz or the doorbell ring, I think it's you asking me how I am or wanting to apologise. I hate the fact that if you
were to do one of these things, I am likely to go running back into your comforting,
overly large arms and completely forget how I am feeling right now. How I keep
finding myself checking your Twitter or Facebook like a crazy person to see if
you've put anything about mistakes or missing me, only to see that you're just
posing and flirting with other girls, the same girls you’ve told me in the past
are 'just friends'. I hate the moment when the reality hit me that I’m
just another one of these girls,
the way that my stomach dropped and my eyes pricked, because you’re a prodigious
pompous prick. I hate the fact that I keep thinking over the time that we spent
together and realising that we never agreed
to be exclusive, never really agreed anything, and therefore, what you did and
continue to do isn't technically
wrong. It isn't wrong, but it's still shit.
Playing with people's feelings is wrong, though. Toying with their hopes and constantly telling
someone that they live their life life badly, is wrong. Telling me that I’m too
heavy, when you know I’m incredibly self-conscious, is wrong. Criticising me
for the little things, for the way I talk, is wrong. Completely ignoring me
when I finally say that I don't feel happy with a situation and instead going
out and getting drunk with a group of girls younger than you, is wrong, and so
is getting them to send me selfies of you together. It's wrong and it's shit.
You're wrong and you're shit. Richard, darling Dick, you’re shit.
I've had enough. Enough of the talk and joyless jokes behind
my back, your constant demand and need for attention yet neglect of mine. Only
talking to me when it suits you. Making me feel like I’ve done something wrong
and passing off anything crude as a ‘banter’. The casual cruelness in which you
ignore what I want, just so you can present and project your ideals and
desires.
I am done. Done. The
world is my oyster and all that jazz. You're just a teeny tiny bit of algae and
one day you're going to get bitten by a shark.
I’m not going to cut you out of my life, because I am a nice
person. If I see you in the street or at a party, I’m not going to ignore you
or start walking the other way, because I’m a nice person. If I were to do any
of these things, after all, I would be just as bad as you. We may even end up
remaining friends, who knows – because I am a nice person. The only thing I’m
sure of is that I’m not going to go out of my way anymore to ensure that you’re
happy. Because, thanks to you, I’ve realised that I am my number one priority,
and I am fabulous.
The glorious Khloe Kardashian once said “the best form of
revenge is a good body”. So that’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to improve
myself, my body and my mind. Make my life better, not because of you, but for
me. The fact that I may be posting more on social media however, is most
definitely to ensure that you realise I don’t need you. Accidental snapchat to
show that I’m having a lot of fun and looking fabulous? Whoopsie - “Sorry,
wrong person! J”
And so, I hope when
you see that tanned, toned and terribly
happy girl in a few months’ time you think about how you once made her
feel, and seriously reconsider how you treat girls. What you do is not big, it’s
not clever, and it’s not cool.
So thank you, Richard.
Thank you for making me see that I'm worth something, either through your empty
compliments, or through me finding out that I deserve better. Thank you for
providing me with the motivation to make my life better, to make ME better.
I’m not bitter, I’m
just better.
❤