You’re. Such. A. Slut.
Ever had those four words said to you? Were they true? In actuality, probably not.
High school is full of drama . Each and every student has had something said about them at least once, whether it be to their face or behind their backs. We all know how bad it hurts. So why? Why do we do it? Simple: because we don’t care about other people. Teenagers are so incredibly selfish that there are no words to explain the extent it reaches.
Everyone has had something said about them, but myself more than others. Why? Because I don’t care.
I don’t care about what people say or think about me. That is, unless you really matter to me. And even at that point, I don’t care so much. I couldn’t care less when people call me a slut, a whore, a bitch…anything. They don’t know me. Hell, I don’t even know me. No one knows everything about another person, so why do we all think we can judge people on what we think we know?
Maybe I am a slut. Maybe I am a whore. Maybe I am a bitch. But does it matter to you? No way.
I guess my story starts in freshman year. But doesn’t everyone’s? That’s the year we earn the privilege start fresh, to be new. Maybe that’s why they call it freshman year. It’s practically a new start; new people, new school, new teachers, new drama, new bullshit…new everything.
Great? Not really .
I thought freshman year was going to suck. Honestly, I really did. By the end of it, though, I was satisfied. I didn’t have nearly as much trouble as I thought I would . The teachers were okay . The people were okay. I was a freshman; why would any of the older kids want to bother me?
Okay, okay. I lied. People I didn’t even know talked shit about me. I had this one teacher that couldn’t help but make fun of me every single day. My grades slipped and, well, it wasn’t that good of a year. Yet it was at the same time. That was the year I learned to stop caring about what people said, what people thought, what people did. Hell, I didn’t care about anyone. At least, that’s what I told myself.
Truth is, everyone says they don’t care about this or that; him or her; someone saying something about them; anything and everything. Well, guess what? It’s not possible to not care. You have to care about something – everyone does - even the heartless serial killers, the rapists, the child molesters…everyone!
So, technically, I can’t say I stopped caring.
So let’s backtrack.
That was the year I learned to stop caring about what people said about me, what people thought of me, and what people did to me.
Hell, I didn’t care about myself.