It's crazy how time flew. I still remember the week after that party. All the rumors about me, and the way that people used to look at me. I remember their looks and the way they whispered when I walked past. I remember all the hate that I got.
What most chocked people is that I didn't give one fuck. Not even one. I was tired of everything and felt sick, fucked over, and betrayed when I realised that “B” told the whole school about us, or about what he did to me. I wasn't ashamed. I wouldn't want to go back to those cold nights, when my heart was broken in pieces. But I'll take the pain, and I'll take the hurt, because that shit happens for a reason.
Some things change when you meet that special someone, and even though most adults say that teenagers don't know what real love is (and I totally agree) I think that some of my feelings can't be made up. I sometimes need this spark that I find in guys. Isn't it scary to think that the “special someone” is somewhere out there? Maybe taking a shit right now? Who knows.
We're all excited to meet “the one”. The one that's going to make life so much better.