the miserable life of a miserable teenager

chapter two - sticks and stones



Hurt less than those sharp words.When I made jokes,

they laughed,

at me.

Not with me.

I was a weirdo, a loser.

Tomboy freak, who couldn’t concentrate. Please check at N/ôvel(D)rama.Org.

But I played with them at recess.

And they smiled like they weren’t fake.

Sticks and stones may break my bones,

But words fucking hurt.


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