I am a cold-hearted b****. I lie to my ‘friends’ and put up a front so people won’t come to close. I pretend to my family that I am happy when in reality I am sorely depressed, because this year has been s***. My nana died, the closest person in my life ad the one who knew the real me. Then we got burgled. Some scum bags broke into my house, rooted through all my personal belongings and stole my things. My nana’s ring. I hate them and I don’t feel safe. Yet because i am such a b****, i can’t tell anyone. So I bottle it up. I’m like a time bomb. Another reason this year has been s***, my friends all have boyfriends and when they fall out they come to me and expect me to say ‘there, there’ – but i don’t. I’m not that sort of person. I tell them the truth, that he/she is being a b****, and they need to get over themselves. They then ask me how the hell i know anything about relationships when i’ve never had one – my own mother asks me the same question ‘How can i judge them when i’ve never had a first love’. But i did. It was a couple of years ago and a brown eyed boy broke down the walls of steel around my heart and wormed himself in. He played me. A young boy wanting to break the ice queen, for a laugh, to show off to his mates. He made me laugh, made me cry with laughter. His touch sent shivers down my spine and made my cheeks flame. I loved him. I still do. The way he used to touch his soft lips to my hand. The way his eyes lit up with laughter. I loved him – and i thought he loved me. He didn’t. He left me high and dry, to be with this blonde, big boobed, bimbo. And that’s the worst part! She isn’t even a bimbo! She’s smart and pretty and he loves her. She’s everything i’m not. But i do have one pleasure – she dumped him publicly, in front of his mates. She broke his heart, like he broke mine. And now he’s suffering – just like me. Does it make me a bad person because I find enjoyment in his pain? Because I do.
