Ell1e_the_cvnt
Fine shyt and back up fine shyt where both fine today
Ell1e_the_cvnt
Ell1e_the_cvnt
When we were 5,
the girls were fearless.
Running barefoot in the grass,
climbing too high,
laughing until juice spilled down our chins.
When we were 7,
the girls were kind.
Making friendship bracelets,
sharing snacks,
crying together over scraped knees and lost toys.
When we were 9,
the girls were curious.
Trying makeup in secret,
asking too many questions,
wondering why boys got louder
and we got quieter.
When we were 11,
the girls were fragile.
Counting calories we didn’t need to count,
calling each other “fat” as a joke
and pretending it didn’t hurt.
Fighting over boys
who didn’t even know we existed.
When we were 13,
the girls were mean.
Or maybe scared.
Starting rumors just to stay safe,
picking sides before sides picked us.
Learning how to hate other girls
before we even learned to love ourselves.
When we were 15,
the girls were exhausted.
Tired of competing,
tired of pretending.
Tired of shrinking into spaces
where we couldn’t be too loud,
too smart,
too different.
When we were 16,
the girls were dangerous.
Wearing short skirts with sharp tongues,
posting selfies like armor,
flirting like weapons.
We were still soft underneath—
but no one was allowed to see.
When we were 17,
the girls were survivors.
Walking home with keys between our fingers,
texting “made it” to each other,
knowing every boy’s reputation before we knew their names.
Still laughing,
still loving,
but learning that being a girl
meant never letting your guard down
all the way.
Ell1e_the_cvnt
When we were 5,
the boys were funny.
Sticky hands, missing teeth,
wild laughter on the playground.
They pushed us off swings,
but only because they wanted us to chase them.
When we were 7,
the boys were loud.
Throwing dodgeballs too hard,
calling us names we didn’t understand yet,
but still trading Pokémon cards with us
when no one was looking.
When we were 9,
the boys were annoying.
Pulling ponytails,
talking over us in class,
winning games by cheating
and grinning like they deserved it.
When we were 11,
the boys were confusing.
Some of them got nice overnight,
some of them got meaner.
We heard them whisper about bodies,
and we stopped wanting them to notice ours.
When we were 13,
the boys were cruel.
Ranking us out of ten,
sending screenshots of our selfies,
making bets about who’d kiss them first.
We learned to laugh with them
so they wouldn’t laugh at us.
When we were 15,
the boys were dangerous.
Their jokes weren’t jokes anymore.
Their hands stayed too long.
Their words cut deeper.
They learned how to apologize without meaning it.
We learned how to pretend it didn’t matter.
When we were 16,
the boys were disgusting.
Not all of them,
but enough.
Bragging about the girls they touched,
swapping stories like trophies.
Asking for things we weren’t ready to give.
And blaming us when we said no.
When we were 17,
the boys were tired.
Or maybe we were.
We stopped expecting them to be better.
Stopped waiting for them to grow up.
Started seeing them for what they were:
boys.
Not heroes,
not monsters,
just… boys.
Ell1e_the_cvnt
For all the child actors out there.
They said, “you’re a natural.”
They said, “you’ve got the look.”
They said, “you’ll go far, just smile more, sweetheart.”
You stood under the lights,
thinking the stage would love you
the way you loved it.
But the audience had other plans.
At 12,
they asked you to wear something tighter,
because “it fits the character.”
At 13,
a director’s stare lingered too long,
and you learned to laugh it off
like a professional.
At 14,
older boys whispered backstage,
hands “accidentally” brushing your skin,
and no one said a word.
At 15,
someone told you,
“it’s just the industry—toughen up.”
Like that explained
the comments,
the scripts with scenes you weren’t ready for,
the teachers who warned you
but never helped.
At 16,
you played roles written by men
who thought every girl’s story
needed a kiss
or a bedroom
or a camera lingering too long on her body.
You wondered if you were an actress
or a prop.
Ell1e_the_cvnt
I’m bored so I wrote this.
When you’re 1,
everything is soft: blankets, voices, lullabies.
You don’t know what’s coming.
When you’re 3,
the world is finger paint and scraped knees
and you cry until someone kisses it better.
When you’re 5,
school feels big but you feel bigger,
proud of the way you can spell your name.
When you’re 7,
you start noticing who gets picked first
and who’s left waiting,
and sometimes it’s you.
When you’re 9,
you realize people can be mean
for no reason,
and your backpack feels heavier every day.
When you’re 11,
you stop raising your hand,
because the other girls roll their eyes when you answer right.
When you’re 12,
the mirror starts talking back,
and you don’t like what it says.
When you’re 13,
everything is horrible.
Your friends don’t feel like friends.
Your crush never looks at you.
You write angry poems in your notes app
and everyone tells you “it’s just hormones.”
Like that makes it better.
When you’re 14,
you swear you’re fine, but you’re not.
You’re just tired.
Of school. Of home.
Of trying so hard to be liked.
When you’re 15,
you start letting them in—
the boys who joke too rough,
the friends who make you feel small,
the voices that say “you’re too much” or “not enough.”
When you’re 16,
you realize the boys aren’t magic.
They’re selfish,
and loud,
and confusing.
They want too much from you
and give too little back.
And still—
you wonder if it’s you.
When you’re 17,
you stop waiting for anyone to save you.
You stop pretending it’s all okay.
You learn to walk alone,
even if your hands still shake.
Even if you’re still waiting
to like the girl in the mirror.
And maybe no one told you
how lonely it’d feel—
or how strong you’d have to be
just to make it here.
Ell1e_the_cvnt
I saw fine shyt again
Ell1e_the_cvnt
Guysssss I saw fine shyt after 1 week on vacation and him being suspended
Ell1e_the_cvnt
Guys I need friends like now I’m so lonely
Ell1e_the_cvnt
@cock_blocker101 yeah me too I studder and turn in to bill because I can’t socialize for no one
cock_blocker101
@Ell1e_the_cvnt omgg cuteness. I’m so nervous though bc I’m going to transfer into another school, but I feel like I’m going to get judged badly. But this isn’t until after summer break, but STILL
Ell1e_the_cvnt
@Ell1e_the_cvnt she was also the first friend I made moving to a different neighborhood
Ell1e_the_cvnt
Um I’m cooked my mom found my nic an idk what to do
Harringtons6nuggets
Thanks for following me!!