Ironic. That one word pretty much sums up your life.
Them. The golden couple, the destined duo, the heroes.
Him, the boy you love.
Her, a beautiful girl.
You, the (ugly step) sister.
~It's not like you chose this~
"Could you not? Thank you." You ignore the peeved stares sent your way (yes, you know what peeved means, you're good with big words) and turn back to you nails, layering on a thick coat of red polish.
"Seriously Drew? It's not like we're doing anything to you." It's hard to believe logic can come from such a small brain. You don't say anything in response, merely huffing haughtily.
"It's sickening Piper. Aren't you supposed to be the one against love and beauty and everything mom stands for? But don't worry your tiny little waist one bit. I'll just leave." You don't wait for a response, because you won't get one. He's already busy sucking her face.
It's not your fault you love your sister's boyfriend.
~why does everything bad happen to you?~
this, your reality.
two sides to every story. yet another old document