"I once dated a boy that said he liked my hair long and full, so I never once cut it but my life became a handful. He said he liked it when I was sad, so my wrists became a sketch pad. He yelled at me when I wore jeans cause he liked my legs, so I wore dresses and skirts so he was impressed. He said he didn't like it when I didn't wear makeup, so I always wore lipstick and eyeliner to avoid a breakup. He asked me to style my hair in a particular way, I sighed "okay" and began to straighten my hair everyday. When I smiled he asked me to close my lips, so I tightened my lips and he grabbed my hips. He told me he loved me with his third thrust, I denied to myself that it was just lust.
My friends asked me if I was okay, I cried cause my life had become all grey. I changed myself for someone who never loved me, then I decided to flee.
I began to love myself. I cut 7 inches off my hair, lightness was in the air. I began to recover, it pleased my mother. I wore what I wanted, my past never haunted. I never painted my face, soon enough I stopped feeling out of place. I began to curl my hair, some people began to stare. I openly smiled, my life became less wild. And then I learned that the most important thing was to love oneself, and from then on I never felt the need to kill myself."
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Teen Fictioninspiration ɪnspɪˈreɪʃ(ə)n/ noun 1. the process of being mentally stimulated to do or feel something, especially to do something creative. 2. a sudden brilliant or timely idea. What inspires us? Is it love or friendship? Or is it the pain that we fe...
