This Is Going to Hurt

Uhm What do you want me to call this

Eleanor Taylor Wright

 She was known as the prettiest girl in school

 But not all pretty girls have a pretty story.

She wasn't only known for her looks she was known to be a slut and a whore who would fuck every girls boyfriend, but it wasn't true

 They made rumors over her because they were jealous

They were angry that they didn't look like Eleanor and lived like her

 They were obsessed with her

 They wanted to make her life a living hell by making rumors and spreading false information about her

 They wanted to stab her in the back with words and watch her suffer

Watching her have to come to school everyday just to be harassed by students and teachers all over the school

It was pretty obvious that nobody liked her anymore

A girl who was once known as the prettiest girl in school soon is stomped on by girls all over school crushing her dreams 

She is now known as the sluttiest girl at school who was willingly up to kiss a girl 

what a  filthy little fag.

Eleanor snapped awake in a cold sweat. She quickly sat up in her messed up bed with her blankets hanging over the edge of the bedframe and her sheets messed up as she breathed heavily with her eyes wide due to the teasing and taunting of a nightmare. "Just another nightmare.." She told herself. Or was it? I mean she's had this nightmare a million other times before wouldn't it be true someday? Did people actually think of her that way? I mean, hell, she did willingly kiss Tiffany Beckett Adir, the most popular girl at the other side of school so it wouldn't be surprising if they did think of her that way but it would be like living in hell if they actually thought of her like that. 

Eleanor couldn't live in a high school where people would call her homophobic slurs everywhere she went. Calling her insults and watching her every move like she was in some sort of glass box at a museum for everyone to see. Pulling strings at her as if she was a puppet making her do and say stuff without her full consciousness like she was some sort of doll for a little girl to play with. A doll that wasn't cared for properly. A doll left in the dark for other people to ignore and step on.  She couldn't go back to being nothing but a decoration sitting in the corner watching everyone else participate in gym while she just stared at everyone frozen as if she was a statue. Her hands were sweaty and her mind was racing as she stared at the other kids happily participating. 

As Eleanor thought about all of these thoughts that pulled her down for years that's when she realized She will never be normal. She's not normal. She can never participate in anything without being sent into a spiral of panicking and overthinking. Wondering if people were staring at her or thinking of her in a way she couldn't describe. 

Anytime she was the center of attention she felt like she was just a joke to people. She felt like they didn't care for anything she said and everytime someone laughed it was like she was a clown. A clown that nobody cared about and laughed at every little word she said no matter if it was serious or not. 

If she had to make a speech or talk to big crowds she would always talk while choking back tears. Forcing herself to not cry in front of these people. 

She felt like she was living in a hole with no way out. She couldn't find a way out of this hole no matter how hard she tried. She couldn't climb out of this hole she was waist deep in. Her blood, sweat, and tears were never enough to get her out of this loop she was living in. She was stuck of living in a hole with no friends or family to help her. She just needed to be accepted and validated for being herself. Instead she got harsh criticism and bullying just for being herself. God, what has this world become?

She was desperate for attention and validation. Physical affection and compliments from anyone. She was so desperate for anyone, anyone at all, to love her the way she wanted them to. Although she never received love from anyone, not even her family, she still loved people like a dog. No matter how much you hurt her, physically or mentally, she would come crawling back to you expecting some sort of love, validation. 

She was so desperate for validation that she actually started dating a 15 year old as a 9 year old. She need, so desperately, for attention. She wanted to be able to be loved by people around her. She wanted to be useful and known. She couldn't deal with living in the dust anymore. This deep hole that she's dug herself in isn't sounding so great now. That 15 year old was creepy. He would ask her to call every day with his deep ass voice that would probably scare an innocent child away. She needed to be held in someone's arms, to be appreciated and complimented, she needed someone to tell her her worth, her true value in this cruel world.

She couldn't live like this. She couldn't live in the dark and to be stepped on and used by everyone for popularity. She needed a distraction. An outlet to let out all her anger and pain. Her anger mostly came from how badly the world treated her. She was angry that she wasn't getting the treatment she deserved and wanted. Nobody was caring for her. Not one bit. She needed an effective way to let her anger and pain out. A way that nobody would know of. A way that nobody would see.

She sat at the edge of her messed up bed, her feet touching the cold hardwood floor. She pushed herself up with a sigh as the floorboards creaked underneath her weight. She walked to the small bathroom in her room, looking at herself in the mirror. What was she thinking? Going to school everyday looking like an absolute whore who needs male validation specifically to survive. She sighed and looked down into the sink. What was she going to do with herself? She's been a mess for the past few days. She's gotten into arguments with her mother and couldn't even think straight.

 She looked at the corner of the counter near the sink. Scissors, Exactly what she needed. She held them in her hands just staring at them. Then, she looked up at the mirror with tears in her eyes. Without even realizing, she was cutting her own hair off. Inches and inches just coming off and falling into the sink. Tears flowing down her face and sobs being choked back as she did so. She looked at herself. What did she do? She didn't look anything like a lady. She looked like a monster. A monster that couldn't even control her own feelings. She slammed the scissors back down on the counter and slid down the wall, sitting while hugging her knees and sobbing. Why would she do such a thing to herself? Her beautiful, beautiful hair was gone. All that was left was a resemblance of her mother that she hated. 

Her vision was blurry from all the tears in her eyes and she couldn't even look clearly. Her eyes darting around the room until it fell on something. A razor. An effective solution to her problems. With shaking hands she grabbed it. It was supposed to be for shaving but she managed to get the razor out of it. She stared at it, then at her arm. No, that would be too obvious. Her ankles. Without realizing, she sunk the razor deep into her skin, blood flowing out of the cut, leaving a crimson cut that would soon scar. She couldn't stop though. She quickly covered her ankles in scars and cuts that she would regret later but she didn't care. She let all her anger out by sinking this tiny sharp piece of metal into her skin. She was finally able to find a nice solution to her problems.