The Diary of a Teenaged Whore

I was 16 years old when I fell in love with Carter Warner.

I would talk to him from morning until night fall. Our conversations kept me going, like crack did an addict. I was addicted to him in every way.

I really believed he loved me, too. Hell, I knew we were young, but it felt so real to me. But of course, as Hazel Grace said, there is always a hamartia.

I gave him all of my firsts.
My first kiss.
My first make-out session.
The first time I skipped class was with him.
My first time.
And it was honestly all amazing. Until the day after he got all he wanted.

Everything was spinning out of control. I didn't know what to do. My whole world was crashing down on me in a matter of seconds.

He told everybody what we did.

He tore my heart out of my chest, threw it on the ground, and stomped on it, until it would no longer to be able to beat for anything ever again.

From that day on I was labeled a whore.

And there wasn't anything I could do about it.