Copyright © 2015 by Kim Luna. All rights reserved.
BIG FAT WARNING: Teen Angst, high school drama, corny af pick-up lines, extreme sarcasm, scream-into-your-pillow kind of otp feels, and fowl language. Lots of fowl language. (My parents will kill me for this...)
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Prologue
Our drama starts with an extremely dry cliché.
You know those average I'm-the-bestfriend-here-but-instead-he-
notices-and-chases-after-some-other-girl-while-I-just-stand-here-and-comfort-his-stupid-boy-ass-when-he-gets-his-heart-broken-again-and-again type of stories? Yeah. It's something like that.
Those stories are honestly kinda cute, actually. Like for example there's this nerdy one-of-the-boys type of girl chasing after some douche who never notices how amazing she is, because she's just a bestfriend to him. But then—plot twist!—she is this sassy and beautiful queen, and the guy finally forgets the other girl and fucking finally notices her, and then they date and maybe hook up and get married and buy a cute house in some suburb and buy a dog and get kids and blah blah blah. Yeah something like that.
Yes, kinda cute, I guess. One problem, though.
The thing is, I'm not the bestfriend. I'm the "other girl."
The one he chased after. The one he neglected his bestfriend for. The one he got over when he realized his bestie is more important.
The one he forgot. The one he left.
Now, I know what you're thinking. You hate me. Despise me, even. Technically speaking, I'm the antagonist here. I'm the "n" in their Happily Never After. I'm the conflict in this plot. Now that they're okay, now that they're together, now that they're happy, good riddance to me, right?
Yeah, don't worry. I hate myself too.
But keep in mind, I was hurt too you know.
You might want to grab your torches and pitchforks and aim them at me while you still can. Don't worry about it, I won't take offense. It would be a privilege to be burnt to ashes.
I deserve it.
My name is Perci. I am the other girl.
And this right here, this useless pile of dead paragraphs and sentences, is my story.
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Author's Note: This is a first, so you all better be nice. *waves sword threateningly*
YOU ARE READING
Stitches
PoetryLove? Love is easy-it's like a walk in the park. Except the park is on fire And the ground is on fire. And the grass is on fire. And freakin' everything else is on fire. And the sky is black with smoke and you're weak-kneed and you can't breathe. B...
