Royally Normal

8

 I would be lying if I said a part of me didn't resent my parents for keeping such a large part of my identity from me.

Being an heir to the throne was a big deal and I felt so disconnected from the culture of the United Kingdom that I knew I never wanted that job. I always thought about the what-ifs like if they would have stuck it out and I would have been raised over there.

Long story short, I didn't understand why they did what they did.

That was until I searched my entire family's name on Twitter. 

There were so many people talking about us as if we weren't real people with feelings and emotions. 

In some news articles, there were pictures of me from my friend's Instagrams that were public. Somehow it was a scandal that I wore a bikini to a beach. To be fair, the articles were very tame compared to the comments.

I can't believe King Archie damaged the bloodline like that!
I'd be happier about the King's reinstatement if he weren't married to a colored woman.
Shame that the next line of royals will be demented.

So many people talked about my hair and how they preferred it straightened than in its natural state. I was either too skinny or too fat, my legs were too long, or my body didn't look propionate. My skin was too dark or it was too light. I looked too much like my dad or too much like my mom.

 Basically, I couldn't win.

I could probably cure cancer and some people still wouldn't like me.

To be honest it hurt me. Especially since I was very reserved and usually a people pleaser.

There was a small knock on my door before it opened.

I immediately began wiping my tears. "Hey, I'm sorry if I woke you up."

"I was up doing homework. You don't have to hide your tears from me." Cole sat down on my bed. "What's wrong?"

God, was my crying that loud?

I shook my head. "It's nothing, seriously, it's past midnight. I'll be fine."

"You'll feel better if you talk about." Cole coaxed me. "I'm here to listen."

"I'm fine." I assured him. "I'll be fine."

He pressed his lips together. "Beanie, it's okay to admit that you're hurting."

I just stared off into space. I hated being vulnerable and crying in front of people but the fucking tears just wouldn't stop.

 "I hate seeing you like this." Cole paused. "Please, let me help. Is there someone I need to punch or talk some fucking sense into?"

I took a deep breath. "It's just hard seeing people talk about you. I've been through so much fucking shit in the past few months and the last thing I want to see is what feels like the entire country of England talking about me."

I tossed him my phone that was on Twitter. "I'm too dark, too fat or skinny, should've been kept hidden, the bikini I wore four years ago when I was twelve was slutty, so much stupid shit. I wish it didn't affect me but it does."

Cole got up, put my phone on my desk, and sat down on my bed again.

He looked me in the eyes. "Fuck them. I know you love to make everyone happy but some people will just always be miserable."

"I know but it still hurts." I sighed.

"To be short, it makes me feel like shit." I looked at Cole. "Like I'm so small and worthless and insignificant."