She Doesn't Care . (Being Edited)

Rumor Has It . ; Chapter Two .

        So, you’re probably wondering why I would be like this; what was wrong with me, why I would act like that, where it all began, what the fuck happened .

         What was wrong with me? Why did I act like that? Where did it all begin? What the fuck did happen?

         I have a small clue, and, hopefully, after writing this all out I'll know the answers to all these questions and more. Like you said I would.

        Anyway, it started way before Freshman Year, I suppose. Two years before, actually. When I was in seventh grade, I was talked about a lot. I guess you could say I was the first one to transition from my old self, the one everyone knew for years, into someone new.

        Actually, I was not the first. I was just the only one anyone had a problem with. I think that’s because I was fairly popular. Well, as popular as you could be in middle school.

         That. Year. Sucked.

         That was the year I got my first official boyfriend. We were a lot more serious than anyone else our age. On top of that, we both had problems. He battled a depression I more-than-likely caused for him. I fought against myself and everything I knew. I wanted to change, to be myself. But while being myself, I changed into someone else. Someone that wasn’t me, but also someone that didn’t act like everyone else did.

         I wanted to be different and I definitely was. Being different, though, wasn’t all that it was soaked up to be. I was judged, hated, talked about. I pretended it didn’t matter, that the only thing that mattered was myself and my boyfriend, of course.

        Although, I didn’t entirely think that way. I hated people judging me on what they thought they knew about me. I hated people hating me when they didn’t even know me. I hated the fact that people I didn’t know, even high schoolers, talked shit about me. But I pretended I didn’t care.

         I guess that was a huge problem. The only thing it ended up doing was creating a disastrous break-up; making a lot of people hate me, making myself hate me, making me hate almost everyone else. There was a lot of hate. It al all hate.  After that break-up, my boyfriend decided that he was going to lie to everyone else and even himself. He knew I wasn’t anything like what people said I was, but he still told everyone nasty rumors about me - things that just made everything worse.

        He told everyone stuff what I supposedly “did” to him, that I was crazy, that I cut myself, that the real me was as disgusting as people thought. Everything was a lie. But it didn’t matter; it was me against everyone else. Some people didn’t get into it, didn’t care. I think I would be dead if they all did. I was only thirteen when my life went to hell. And believe me - it never came back.

        People still talked about it two or three years later. They talked about anything and everything they heard just because they knew it hurt. That disaster led right into the summer. I guess that summer, the summer before Eighth grade, I became a little more like everyone said I was. Or a lot, it depends on how you look at it.