Not Worth Reading

The Boy

There's a guy I know.
Let's just call him "Boy".
Boy and I go to school together.
We have English and Phys Ed together.
We started off as friends who only talked to each other in our small English class of 10 students.
By second semester, every time I saw Boy butterflies would flutter in my stomach.
We flirted but he's known for doing that.
He would cheer me up whenever I was sad and vice versa but he was known for doing that.
He made me feel special but he was known for doing that.
I knew from the start he would never feel the same.
Boy was constantly surrounded by prettier, skinnier girls with butterscotch hair and cute pixie noses.
I was here with plain brown hair and a pertruding nose and chubby thighs.
The odds would never be in my favor.
Boy flirted with other girls and said he cared about them, just as he once did for me.
I felt played.
One night, at 8:37 p.m. Boy posted a picture with a depressing caption.
I said something rather insensitive because I was bitter.
Boy replied back with "get out of my life, leave me alone."
I hated myself.
I hated myself for falling for him.
I hated myself for falling into the trap that so many girls had fallen into.
But most of, I hated my impulsive actions.