Attention Whore

                   Attention whore. That's what you call me.


     Am I really? I'm usually the one girl who sits quietly in the back of the classroom, and rarely participates in public. I'm the one who hates to be on the spotlight with questions, who cries silently when someone berates her. I hardly ever ask for anything, but for you to listen when I feel like talking. Whether it be serious or not, a pair of loyal ears is a good thing to have.
     And you. You started to pull me out of that hellish shell I locked myself in years ago. I loved you. You loved me. We were happy, being the only two peas in a humongous pod. I let you take whatever you wanted of me, and I didn't ask for much in return. I didn't need your body or materials. I just wanted a space in your heart, that secluded place no one had ever seen before. I thought I was selfish to ask so much of you. I thought I was asking too much, for someone who pulled me out of my personal hell.
     But then wait. When I want a little more attention than usual, you haul-off? And call me that dirty word? How is that justified and fair in anyway? Now, thanks to you, I'm once again the girl who sits quietly in the back of the room. I've moved to different people, different friends, different faces, different places, but I still can't replace you. I hate that. I'm bitter now, on top of everything else. Satisfied yet? This is what you've created. Happy with your little monster? Did you just want someone to be lonelier and more unhappy than you? It would have been better if you had left me in that hell. I would have gladly taken that over this... this... doll I am now.
     Attention whore. That's not what I'd use to describe myself.
     No, I'd use broken...