Easy to spot. Always at the center of the party. Long gold hair always a mess and even longer legs normally clad in black ripped jeans. A bold top different than everyone else's. She had an unspoken fear of wearing the same thing as anybody. If you, by some miracle, caught her eye she'd give you the infamous smirk. One look and you knew she was trouble. Majority of the time she had a wandering gaze that kept up her air of indifference. She seemed constantly detached from the world. Almost like whatever was happening in her head was some exclusive party no one else was invited to. No one had to ask her twice to finish her drink. She would down it with bloodshot eyes glowing. If someone asked her name it was consistently followed by a "I've heard stories about her." The look in her eyes made you feel important even though it was common knowledge she didn't have a care in the world.
Speculation says she was born with party in her veins.
She was absolutely intoxicating.
People just wanted to be near in hopes they'd have half as much fun as she was having.
Trouble followed in her wake. But she drew you in in a way that made you crave the havoc she wrecked.
She glowed youth and happiness and freedom.
Wild in the way of loving life more than anyone else.
She was sure to crunch her nose up and throw her head back laughing at anything. Happiness came so easily to her.
However, so did emptiness.
And hopelessness.
While everyone seemed to know her, nobody knew the girl sitting on the shower floor.
Not crying, no, but staring into nothing, at a loss.
No one knew about how she filed it all away in the back of her mind. Refusing to ever deal with anything.
She would not break for pain. Not now. Not ever.
The world beat down on her. Always dealing her the worst hand.
But you'd still find her right in the middle of the party as wild as ever.
She would never let you in.
Instead she would do anything to numb it all.
She felt it was a necessity to always be the one to not care.
Not caring tricked her mind into thinking nothing hurt her.
She wondered sometimes if anyone would ever realize she was absolutely exhausted, not high.
If she acted like nothing mattered now, her heart would be convinced that nothing had ever mattered.
She is reckless. Existing only to be a harbor for others.
She would hurt you if you let her. She didn't want to be cold but she had to.
She only knew how to do it all alone. I didn't need anybody.
Maddie. Me. The Wild One.
YOU ARE READING
The Diary of the Infamous
NouvellesStories, poems, and letters from 2 very different girls who lived a life of trouble, pain, heartbreak, and of course wild fun.