How To Be A Bitch (On Hold)

➸ nine: kill bill

➸ nine: kill bill

« you revealed memories like old photos which poisoned my broken soul back to whole, that night we ignored the pain between us and deeply believed we were infinite. »

  I'm not a religious person. I've never been one. That doesn't mean that I am an atheist. I believe in God, I just don't pray and worship him all the time, like the others do. 

But the day I got my heart broken, I prayed to God for the first time in 17 years. I prayed to him, begging him to take away the pain I felt in my heart. I prayed for days where I wouldn't miss Ashton Dallas like he was a fucking limb. At that moment, I felt that I could live without an arm or a leg because then, having an arm ripped out would be less painful than the pain I was experiencing at that time.

And now I realized, as I stood outside in the yard, that during times like that, you shouldn't wallow yourself in self-pity. When you fall down, you shouldn't curl up on the floor and give up. You should stand up, more straight than before with more confidence. More pride. And more strength.

I know that it isn't that easy. Maybe you will still miss that someone even after trying as hard as you can. Maybe your heart still hurts a little or maybe it hurts a lot. Maybe you still get that feeling when you feel as though the whole universe is conspiring against you.

But then again, maybe one day you'll realize that the only person who can make it right again - is you.

 ∆

If you want to be a bitch, you need to learn how to kill. A kill for revenge. I'm not talking about the blood-shed kind of killing. I am talking about the killing done on the inside. Killing the confidence into something weaker, killing the ego to something along the lines of self-doubt. Destroying a person completely from within leaving nothing, nothing at all for them to lean on.

There are many things that no one in the entire school knows about Grace White. With the exception of me, of course. Grace and I had been friends for almost three years now and it is suffice to say the I knew her like the back of my hand. I knew whom she had her first kiss with, whom she had a crush on and also about whom she lost her virginity to.

The last one was something that I would happily ignore for the rest of my life because knowing who took your best friend's V card isn't exactly what we call thrilling. She told me everything about it with so much excitement that I thought she would jump out of the window to express just how happy and excited she was. It was Saturday, midnight when we were in our Sophomore year, when Grace White climbed in from the window of my room like a thief in the night. She actually was like a thief. Quiet. Unfair. Persistent. And I'm not just speaking metamorphically.

To say I was shocked when I heard that she had lost her virginity to one of the seniors of the school, would be an understatement. I was beyond shocked. Horrified, even. Since I was raised in a family where losing someone's pureness was considered as an event that should be carried out only with someone you truly love and someone who truly loves you back, I was utterly and completely confused by the actions of Grace. I even went as far as to ask her why she had done it. Her answer to that had simply been, "I just wanted to experience what it felt like."

In that moment, I realized that Grace wasn't as innocent as I thought of her to be. But I didn't comment on it. I didn't say anything when she told me who it was and how it felt like because I didn't want to be the bad friend who couldn't even be happy for their best friend. Obviously, I was young and too foolish to realise that by doing that, I was instead turning into a bad friend. But then again, what difference would my one comment have made? Grace would still be the same person and she would still have lost her virginity.