You call her a thot, but it's okay because she's your close friend and she knows you're only joking.

And even if you're not, her body count leaves you justified, correct?

Some people wonder, who is that girl?




A stranger could describe her as an average looking girl with blonde hair and blue eyes and a smile that could kill if only you knew the stories hidden behind it.

Her friends could describe her as a really pretty girl who is just a bit confused on what love truly is.

Her teachers would probably say she's a great student, if only she could turn her work in on time.

Boys around the school would probably tell you she's a fool to believe that any guy would want anything more than to hit and quit her.

Her mom has described her as her little angel, who is finally getting back on track after following her footsteps a few feet too far.

Her dad talks about her as if she's a w****-ible person, just because she brought notice to what kind of man he really is,




And yet the question still stands; WHO is that girl?

A two time rape victim? She asked for it with a reputation like hers.

A drug addict? No surprise at all. You could smell it a foot away.

A daughter of two incarcerated parents? At least they're not dead.

An abuse victim? Surly she's exaggerating.




I find it tragically ironic that day after day we spit the phrase "society can be so cruel"; yet society starts with you.

The friend who sits next to her in class, calling her a thot. And how each time she can't help but flash back to whenever she finally built the courage to tell her dad about the attack the only words he could get out were "I don't want to look at you."

Society starts with you, the stranger who sees her each and every day in the hallway but couldn't do as much as simply smile at her.

You, the teacher who instead of asking her why she is struggling so much, enters 0 after 0 even if she's an hour late, adding 10 times the weight to her flimsy shoulders that could break at any second.

Society starts with each and every one of you boys who think you have to take advantage of a girl just because she's vulnerable. Drop the mentality that her past gives you the right to ask; and start building the one that says she is worth way more than the amount of guys she's been with.




The problem with teenagers, oh I'm sorry, people; is that they think that each action and every event is and means the same for each person.

The thought that the girl who has both parents at home and the best life she could ask for is no better or worse than the girl whose only way of fighting off the memory of what her dad did to her is through a "puff puff pass" and a swallow of about 3 pills; just because they are both drug addicts.

And that thought in itself is how humans have lost every sense of individuality.




The funniest thing about society is we all say we want change, but none of us want to step up to the plate.

And the saddest thing is it doesn't matter if you are utterly most touched or only somewhat moved by this poem, you all will do the same thing. You will wake up tomorrow morning, forgetting every word being said.

My friends will still call me a thot.

Strangers will still silently pass me in the hallway.

Boys will still think of me in only one way.

I will continue to wait year after year for my mother to come home, and until then I will be sadly contempt with weekly letters and monthly visits.

My dad will continue not to write me and call my sister every night because he blames me for his imprisonment, although I should be the one learning to forgive him.




Because although you hear or see me, you are not listening nor reading.

You're taking this in with an "oh that's so sad" and "I feel very bad but there's nothing I can quite do" type of attitude.

Just as no one heard me silently begging my father to stop the night he betrayed me or saw me cry my eyes out when my mother went to prison.




And you may think that all my words are quite jumpy and there's no exact point to what I'm saying.

But there is.

It's the fact that we all used to feel hurt when we were bullied or judged but we never stop to think when we repeat the same words to someone else.

We never stop to truly think what if this person is walking the tight rope between "giving up" and "seeing how much more I can take" and we just pushed them.




And when the girl you thought was perfectly fine breaks because of a simple action done or word spoken to her, what will cross your mind when I simply look at you and say "I told you so."