Late Night Creations

Unlovable.

I was seven the first time I heard the word.
Oh course, it wasn't directed at me, oh no.
The bullies on the TV were shouting it at the lonely girl with glasses sitting in the corner, and we all agreed we would go and help her if we could.
Things change.

I was eleven the first time the dreaded word was first implemented into my head.
Oh course, being larger than a world that was smaller than I was never going to be easy,
But the constant jokes and the way that vile word was thrown around like an illness, gave me no choice but to believe they were right.
Who would love me anyway?

I was thirteen the first time someone tried to change my opinion of myself.
And maybe, for a few days I believed him, and I was happy. I was lovable.
But then his sweet words were drowned out by, ' It's okay' and You're safe now' and 'You aren't in any trouble'.
The words he said were lies

I am sixteen, and the harsh clash of tongue and sound still resonate and reverberate, reminding me of what I am.
And the people who want to try and change my opinion of myself want me to change it to their opinion of me, and that is far more macabre than my own.
So I guess people don't want to help the loner girl with glasses sitting in the corner, for fear they might catch her disease as well.
Unlovable.