The Player Vs. The Player

Meet Miss Player

Meet Miss Player

As I walk these halls, I know every eye follows me as I passed them. I know guys drool and check me out as I strode each and every one of them. I know girls have horrible thoughts about me and I know most of them envy me. This may sound shallow, but I know I’m beautiful.

In my entire life of existence, I found out, beauty is everything. In here, it doesn’t matter if you have a brain. It doesn’t matter if you have an amazing talent. It doesn’t even matter if you were down to earth. The only thing that mattered is how you looked like.

Voices interrupted my thoughts as I abruptly stopped.  Curious, I followed the many people who were walking towards the voices.

I wonder if there is a fight occurring. It happens often in this school. Guys lose their tempers a lot. I actually hate that thing about this school. Fighting doesn’t really solve anything. It’s completely stupid. If two guys were fighting for me, I’d actually be pissed.  It’s kind of ironic.

Fighting just proves to me that that person isn’t strong enough to take their stand and be the better person. No guy could do that. 

Finally, I found people surrounding something that seemed to interest them and it made me attentive to the situation, even though I don’t know what is.

I caught a sight of a pretty blond girl that stood there, her face fuming. My eyes couldn’t leave her face, because something about her seemed so familiar. I couldn’t tell if it was her big blue eyes that took most of the space of her round face. I’m not sure if her thin, strawberry blonde hair was recognizable or was it her petite shape. I couldn’t really tell. All I knew, her expression isn’t her usual.

“You fucking cheater,” she screamed at her boyfriend, I assumed.

The first thing I thought of the boy was he's a fucking loser. Not because he's getting yelled at his girlfriend in front of everyone in this school, but because he actually got caught.

Loser, I thought

God, I want to see how his face looks like. He must look as if he wanted to die, not wanting to be yelled at by a girl in front of so many people. I kind of felt bad.

Not.

I wanted to laugh at his face –there isn’t a tad pity I felt towards him. I wanted to laugh at his stupidity. I wanted to laugh at his embarrassment and I wanted and I wanted to laugh at his complete fail in cheating.

I’m kind of a hypocrite though, because I’m a cheater. Scratch that. I’m a player. It’s a more appropriate term for me, but for the guy in front of me, cheater is perfect for him.

If you’re thinking it is kind of weird for a girl to be a player, it isn’t. If you thought that, you are a sexist pig.

The thing is, I’m a player, because I’ve broken hearts and I have done things I am not proud of.

I don’t believe in love. In the matter fact, I ran away from love multiple times. There were great guys I’ve dated, but I ended the relationship before anything can get too serious.

I don’t believe in love. I don’t believe in promises. I don’t believe in love at first sight and don’t believe in soul mates. I especially don’t believe in any fairy tale crap. 

Love doesn’t exist and I know guys don’t want love. They want lust and that is what I’m going to give them. I know I have dated great guys, but they just want one thing – my body.

Happily ever doesn’t exist either. People just say that, so they won’t think of how horrible there life is. My life isn’t really horrible, it’s just complicated.