It started with hello and ended in public shame. Her name is Carmen she was fourteen, a freshman in high school. A sweet little girl in her heart, but not for long according to others. She would do something that would shock everybody including herself. It all started when she began to talk to a guy named Biggaveli. Biggaveli was older than Carmen; he was sixteen, a junior at her school. They began to text each other in what appeared to be a pretty good friendship. They lost contact with each other because Carmen’s best friend Naomi forbidded her from ever speaking to Biggaveli again. Naomi could see right though him. Naomi knew that he was bad news.She knew that he just wanted to make it seem like it was just a regular old friendship, when the truth is that it was far from it. He thought that he could use his charming good looks to wiggle his way into her little blue jeans. He used beautifully caressing words to make her do what she swore he would never in her entire life do. Naomi foretold everything that would happen. Then after a month Carmen sporadically got the urge to text Biggaveli and so she acted on her urges. Carmen texted him day and night for six hours straight. And on the third day after they rekindled there friendship, Carmen gave away her body to the whole nation without even noticing it until it was too late to undo what she had done. She had sent Biggaveli three half naked pictures of herself. Within five minutes she became theThe next day the whole school knew what Carmen had done. A countless number of boys walked up to her and asked her to sleep with them. The girls had nothing good to say but call her shameful, hurtful, and derogatory words. The lesbians we just like the boys they lusted over her, the looked at her and an immediate lick of the lips solidified to Carmen that her reputation had officially hit rock bottom. Her reputation was ruined and his was magnified for he had pictures that would excite all who placed their eyes upon them. Everyday she had to endure the pain of people being suddenly intrigued in her because of what she had done not because of who she was as a person. They thought she would give it up to anybody because of the way she portrayed herself of those photos. Nobody knew how she truly felt norof the way. I felt hopeless, lifeless, and most of all dirty. I had ruined my reputation as a funny, cute little freshman and drastically changed it into that of a dirty-good-for-nothing-stupid-smut-ish-w****. I felt like dying but I knew that killing myself would mean giving up on life. And who am I to give up on the previous life that I had worked so hard to obtain. I am not a quitter so I continue to live my life even though some days are harder than others. I know that I am not a smut deep down inside I am still that sweet little girl. Occasionally I feel the stinging pain of my actions. And yes, I still do cry because I know that I didn’t just hurt myself, I hurt my friend and family to. I still feel as if I am the family smut. My sister is the good role model, my brother is the golden child, and I, oh boy. I am the weird middle child. I am theChild with all of the psychological issues, the one who tries to get noticed and is but never for good things. The child who is frowned upon, the disgraceful one. The one who is cared the most least. The child whose parents wonder “Where did I go wrong with this child?” not even worth enough to be called by my first name because saying my name would make it evident that yes your child is a screw up. And I know that I am a screw up, but I wish that I could get past the pain, and tears but it seems nearly impossible. A goal that cannot be reached, but it must be reached in order to move on with the life the world has given me so in time I can change the life I have been given and turn it into one that is most enjoyable, a live I can live with. A tarnished life all because of a picture, which I fully regret andwon’t ever stop regretting. I made a decision for someone who wasn’t even in love with me. A person who was ashamed to talk to me in front of other people, but not ashamed to obtain my soul which was stolen right out of my chest. A soul, which was young and innocent. I leave you with a lyric that make me ponder that answer. Here it is: “Were Hearts Made Whole Just To Break?” you can interpret the lyric any way you want to. To some it means one and to some it means another. But we will never really figure out the answer. Life, a baffling read that we would never quite fully understand.
August 14, 2011