GHETTO TALES
If you see them, don't make eye contact. If you see them, don't say a word. If you see them...run. You don't know what you're getting into.
~2 pov's~
Capri Martin had always strived to be the perfect daughter. With a strict upbringing...
i'm so busy and sad rn i can't even write. so i'm just gonna update the ch.'s i have already. *** Capri Martin two weeks later... I was doing decent for someone who thought they were gonna die 3 days ago. In no time, I'd been over the 'incident' and feeling like my old self. My old self before I ever started dating niggas.
I felt GOOD. I had so much freedom without worrying about #that boy breathing down my neck. I hope whatever girl he was with right now, was MISERABLE. I hoped he was miserable and I hoped their sex SUCKED.
Not to be bitter.
But these last two weeks have been about self care. All the time I used to spend with him was filled with shit I could've been doing. I was waking up at 6am to go on runs. Like a real healthy bitch. I was proud of myself.
Eating again finally, but eating healthy, skin glowing, looking like a bad bitch. I finally had some inspo for my songwriting. This break up was the best thing that has ever happened to me. Genuinely.
I didn't even miss him. I didn't miss anything about him. At all.
"Just watch his story one time and I'll leave you alone Sam. Please!" I begged.
"Capri...I thought you said to stop you whenever you got the urge to check on him." She squinted.
"Yeah but...this is only my first time asking you all day."
"This is the third."
"Third? Damn. Okay well just check and I'll leave you alone. Alright?"
"You just gone cry again Capri."
"No I'm not! Just...just show me what he posted. He made a new story 20 minutes ago!"
Taking a deep breath, Sam rolled her eyes at me. I knew her and Zillah were tired of dealing with this break up as much as I was. But I mean this was the only thing keeping me remotely sane.
Checking up on him and making sure he wasn't doing better than me. Whenever he posted, it would either be a slutty ass selfie of himself or him flexing his stupid ass chains.
And in every picture, the tattoos he got of my name could be seen. He wanted attention SO BAD. It was clear.
I covered mine with makeup. To the point where it looked like I never got him tattooed on me in the first place.
"Here you go." She sighed, letting me flip through his story from her little spam page.
Taking the phone, I watched each one of his stories. He was such a lame. He had his anklets on. WERE THOSE MINE????? WERE THOSE MY FUCKING ANKLETS...?
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"HE HAS MY ANKLETS ON..." I yelled.
"MY GOD CAPRI...YOU'RE REALLY LOUD!" Sam exclaimed.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. He has my fucking anklets on though." I huffed, pointing to the screen.
