In kindergarten, they called us names, pushed us and pulled our hair. All because they thought you were cute. In middle school, their talks turned into, how they like parts of you . Then in high school if a perfect boy slid his hand on your thigh or up your skirt, it meant that he wanted you (forever). It meant that he cared. It meant he like you. Then for some unknown reason you\'re naive brain tells us it\'s something real. Something greater.
Even if we didn’t necessarily feel comfortable with it.You would sit there. We are taught from a very young age from televisions, society and magazines that no matter where we go all that matters is the size of jeans. The amount of curves, in all the right places. The amount of time, effort, and money we spend on makeup. That\'s all that matters is being beautiful, materialist, and a zombie, being the ideal western woman. Just to hear whistles directed straight to you. Then the laughs, shooting down the ones they call ugly, disgusting or fat. Aiming at the heart. Yet at the same time, hunting for the beautiful and innocent one to hold you down.
We have no say, in what we do or what they say. We are taught, if you want to be heard you have to be beautiful. But if you\'re too beautiful, you\'re stupid. We are taught to just be quiet. None of our sadness troubles and opinions don’t matter. We are just being emotional. Unless, Then, we want to take our last breath. Wanting to die, because you\'re not beautiful enough.
Yet, we are taught that boys are there to help us. Whether it’s from the prince helping the princess, or the boy opening the pickle jar. We are taught that we aren\'t smart. We are taught that when he grabs you or kisses you, you go with it. Now think about this...
Remember that perfect boy who likes you? Well, now he’s asked you to go somewhere private, darker, alone, where nobody can hear you talking. Your mind is screaming. Your heart is racing. Your morals being gunned down in the muddy trench next to you. Your Conscience shot along with it. Your conscience was your best friend. Bleeding out mumbling, until there are no words. You become lost, alone. Empty.
Now, you now know why he asked you to wear that little purple skirt. Yet, you still following him somewhere dark and dirty. You do it because you want to be loved. Go on step inside! It\'s finally your time to shine! To be useful, to show your worth…Even if it means ruining yourself. Next thing you know his hands up your shirt. You already feel bare. Then, the rest you don’t need to know.
Now, it\'s all over, go home, shower. Remember How you ruined yourself forever. It\'s over. It\'s done. Go home hug your toy rabbit tighter. That toy rabbit is all you have left of your innocence. The little girl in you shattered, but you’re not yet a woman. Lost, between who you are. Feel the shame.
Now the few weeks he laughs about what he did to you, he doesn\'t keep it a secret. You thought it was going to be a secret! He was going to tell everyone nothing happened. But, he wanted to prove his ‘manhood’, with the price destroying your innocence, destroying the last bit of happiness. With selfishness and greed by his side he turns around and gives innocence to the enemy. He gives the last bit of your dignity, to the enemy. Why? You don’t need your happiness. You can live without dignity, and innocents is being naive, childish and foolish. Time to grow up little one.
Not ready to grow up. But, no now you\'re labeled as a slut, you\'re forced to grow up. You made one mistake, time to make a big change. You were naïve foolish and you thought he cared. You were dehumanized, turned into a robot, an object. Programmed to sit the act the part, be beautiful even when you were in the trenches. What you thought didn\'t matter. Your life changed forever. Everyone knows what you did. You are a slut.
I was your standard highschooler. Rumors spread that weren\'t true, low self-esteem, smiling when it hurt the most. A soldier with a battle wound, bleeding from every cut my mind consumed. As I lay in the rat-infested, disease-filled trenches I call my brain, my heart rots. My body aches. Telling myself to push through. No matter how bad I wanted to die. I wouldn\'t do it because somewhere deep inside I didn\'t want the enemy to win. I am strong beyond measures because, that\'s the society we live in.