Jennel’s POV:
‘I don’t even know why you’re famous, fugly slut’
‘Kill yourself, you untalented, worthless, lump of shit’
‘Hey Jennel, i was searching google earth today and you’re so FAT that i could see your ass from england, hahahahah’
I slam my laptop shut, resisting the urge to launch it at the wall, i run my fingers through my hair and try to shake the voices from my head; why do people have to be so cruel?! Why do people hate me so much? I never did a thing to them yet they rip and tear me down, every fucking day. If it’s not the headlines, it’s the anons on tumblr sending me hate and if it isn’t either of them, it’s my own mind; fuck this, fuck everything. They’re right anyway, so why should i even try to ignore what they say anymore? I always thought i wanted to be famous, to have everybody know my name but now? I’m not so sure. I never expected fame to be like this, i never expected fame to bring me down to a level where the only things that bring me comfort are either self medicating or slowly destroying myself. To everybody else i’m Jennel Garcia, the happiest girl in the world, the rockstar and underdog of the world famous Xfactor, but in reality? I’m the Jennel Garcia who drinks, can’t go twenty minutes without some sort of drug and the girl who is slowly dying from the inside out, i’m Jennel Garcia who fakes a smile and slowly destroys herself, bit by bit, step by step.
I’m brought from my thoughts by a pair of hands massaging the knots out of my shoulder muscles and i recognise their touch anywhere, Marissa; we got close while Demi mentored me and seeing as i’m doing a show in Texas, she came to visit; time to put my mask back on.
“You okay, J?” Okay, fine, they’re all the same but i’m the farthest from any of them, but regardless; nobody needs to know that but me. Nobody needs my bullshit. I don’t deserve half of the people in my life, let alone their help so i just need to suck it up and convince everybody that i’m 100% good, 100% of the time. I close my fingers over the sleeve of my hoodie and sigh, I can’t risk my sleeves slipping and Mar seeing, especially because i haven’t covered anything with makeup today; if she saw them, the scars, the track marks, how fat i am, it would destroy her. Plus, if Marissa found out she’d tell Demi and that’d cause so much more drama than needed and nobody needs anymore drama in their lives than they already have; least of all my drama because i’m ‘fine’. I sigh, plaster a smile onto my face and turn towards Marissa who has concern etched into every one of her features, why do people have to care about me? If they didn’t care it would make all of this so much easier, on me, on everyone, if i wasn’t here everybody would be so much better off.
“Yeah I’m good, just tired” I wipe my eyes with the back of my hand, it isn’t completely a lie, i am tired, i’m exhausted.
“Are you sure? If i had a dollar for every time somebody said ‘just tired’ to me, i would be loaded” I give her a small nod in agreement and her face slightly softens, but not enough, shit.
“So i see you managed to get inside without being mauled by fans?” A change if subject always works and i let out my signature laugh to reassure her, she chuckles sightly and shakes her head.
“Just about! Gurl, yo fans be cray cray!” Marissa clicks her fingers in a Z pattern and lets out the biggest laugh ever, i laugh along for her sake and usually i’d find that hilarious, but not anymore, nothing makes me laugh anymore.
