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♾ 𝒲ℴ𝓇𝓉𝒽𝓁ℯ𝓈𝓈

Time: 2022. He's 19, you're 18+.

Ugly bitch.

Slut. Put some clothes on.

She's not even pretty wtf.

Literally worthless.

And those are the nice ones. Comments like those had never bothered me in the past. I'd gotten them constantly - the price you pay for dating someone famous. The problem was that they were hitting me differently that night. Something wasn't settling with me the way that it usually did.

Literally worthless.

It wasn't the comment itself. It was the thoughts that flooded afterwards. It was the sinking feeling that I really was worthless. If not, what was my worth? How was it measured? What kind of scale does one use to measure the worth of a human being? A physical scale? A rating of 1-10? An online personality quiz? Was there one person that decided how much I was worth? Was it the amount of effort I put into, and got back from my relationships? My work? Was it how much money I had?

Literally worthless.

I threw my phone across the room. I couldn't stand the words taunting me. They danced on the screen in front of me. Maybe I believed it because I looked at the stupid configuration of letters for too long. I closed my eyes trying to push the comment out, letter by letter. Goodbye L, goodbye i, and so on. It worked well until I got to h - the end of worth. I wanted to be worth something. I wanted someone to tell me what I was worth. Was it a lot? Should it be a lot? How could I make my worth something people would be envious of? I crawled across the living room to grab my phone. The screen was shattered, but I could still see clearly written:

Literally worthless.

Did the crying detract from how much I was worth? It felt like each tear tore down the value of my life. It was weakness, and strength should add to my worth. What else could add to my worth? I turned my head to the darkened tv screen. I stared back at myself. Makeup. Makeup would add to my worth. And curls. And hairspray. And new clothes. And the finest jewelry. Yes. My worth had to go up with each new component I added to my life. I picked myself up from my spot on the floor so I could sprint to the bathroom. Makeup had to wait - the tears wouldn't stop - so I put my phone down to curl my hair.

Literally worthless.

The words watched me as I got ready. I wanted them to see me as I added to my worth. Those dumb, idiotic words. They would rue the day they dared to show themselves to the world. They would - was that the door? Shit. While continuing to curl my hair, I kicked the bathroom door shut. I reminded myself why I was there. Why I was standing in my bathroom, curling my hair at 10:23 on a Tuesday night.

Literally worthless.

"You home, my Angel?" Joe called out. I sniffled still staring at my phone.

Literally worthless.

"In the bathro-" my voice broke. Swiftly, I played it off as a sore throat - which wasn't entirely a lie. "Bathroom, sorry. Be out in a minute." My phone buzzed. A quick reminder about my new trending topic.

Literally worthless.

While he was putting his stuff away, he asked, "Are you okay?" C'mon, you got this. You know what you're doing. Keep your head focused in the right direction.

Literally worthless.

My eyes stung worse than my hoarse voice. "Of course. Just finishing up in here." He mumbled something I couldn't hear. Everything was working out fine. My hair was finished, but I still couldn't do my makeup. I tried, but the foundation kept dripping, and the mascara was streaking down my face.

Literally worthless.

An accidental cry of defeat left my trembling lips. "Honey?" He called out. I put my hand over my mouth to muffle the inevitable sounds managing to escape. Footsteps came closer. His feet clapping on the floor stopped before a loud knock echoed through the room. "Are you sure that you're okay?" Trying to conceal the sounds was a vain attempt. I couldn't hide the truth from him anymore.

Literally worthless.

I slid down the wall across from the door staring at it through the minimal vision I had. Everything was blurred. I felt like I was in the middle of a hurricane without windshield wipers. "I'm fine." I managed to push out before letting out a vicious sob looking at my phone sitting in front of me.

Literally worthless.

"I have ears. I'm coming in."

"No!" I squealed remembering I forgot to lock the door when I closed it earlier. He couldn't see me like that. I didn't want him to understand how true that comment was. That would bring my worth down more than anything else.

Literally worthless.

The phone dimmed making me whimper at the thought of it going away for just a few minutes. To take a break, but wouldn't that make me even more worthless? I'd be cowering. In seconds the whimpers turned to wails. The doorknob turned and a fuzzy figure appeared in the frame where the door had once separated us. I couldn't see his expression, but I was sure I knew what he was thinking.

Literally worthless.

And that was right. Soon the figure was standing in front of me, then sitting beside me, then pulling me into him, then running his fingers through my hair. We had to have been there for at least an hour before I slowed - mostly because I was too tired to continue at the pace I had been going. "You want to tell me what's going on?"

I rapidly shook my head in his chest. "Okay." We stayed for a while longer before I looked at him for the first time since that morning. He looked perfect, just like he always did. A weak half smile played on his lips. Turning away from him I grabbed my phone, unlocked it, and handed it to him. It took him almost no time to put my phone down again. His arms wrapped tighter around me. "I am so sorry."

Abruptly, I moved from his arms to face him. "No, no. Please don't. You didn't do anything. I should be sorry for being-" he covered my mouth, but we both knew what I was going to say.

Literally worthless.

"Never ever say that word about yourself. I mean it," he scolded lightly.

"It's fair, though. I mean, have you ever thought about it? Like, what am I actually worth?" We paused just looking at each other. He appeared more hurt than what I imagined I must've. "I don't have fancy stuff, I spent all my money on the move so I've got like $50 in my savings, all my old friends back home don't even try one bit to see me."

I sniffled starting to think about the comment when I felt his warm hand cover mine, moving my floating thoughts back to him. "If my old friends don't want to see me then clearly I'm not worth very much. People put time, money, and effort into things worthwhile."

The desolation displayed throughout his entire body was obvious. "Please tell me what I'm worth," I pleaded.

"You're worth my love." Those four deep, meaningful words destroyed the two frivilous ones I'd obsessed over earlier. He wiped the stray tears off my face so when I rested my head back on his chest, his shirt wouldn't get more wet than it already was. He combed through my hair until I fell asleep with him on the bathroom floor.