It was just a thought.

Around and around I go. Stuck on that merry-go-round of happiness. I was happy only a day ago and now I'm back in this miserable pit. Once again. Ha. It's quite humerous if you think about it. Just when I'm thinking: "Wow. Things are going to be different. I finally am getting something to be proud of," I get a swift kick in the ass compliments of Reality. I'm realizing that I'm that girl. I'm always going to be that girl. The he's may change but I'll always be that girl. I got drunk and had sex with a guy I'd had a crush on for so long. The next morning, while the taste of alcohol still lingers on my lips yet the rush has numbed, I laid there in his arms just hoping that there was some way that we could be something. That I could be something. Anything. Something more than just a night. A regret. A vague memory. But I knew even then that it wasn't a possibility. Guys don't take me seriously. I'm that girl guys have a good time with. They have relationships and meaningful conversations with "real" girls. Girls they actually care about. I am not one of those girls. As much as I may desire to be one of those girls, fate has quite a different plan of its own. Though I knew it was pointless, I talked to him again later that day, asking him how I should determine the events that had transpired the previous night. "I don't care either way," I said.(Lied.) "I just want to know. Be honest." He told me he hoped it was more than just a drunken night. Whether that was honesty or just a candied version of it, I swallowed it with a smile. From there it just...went on. We went on dates. We had conversations. He took me seriously. Finally, for the first time ever, I wasn't that girl. I was one of those girls. Now I'm sitting here. Choking on my tears and feeling even more worthless than I felt before. Hope makes things hurt worse. Because hope has no substance to it. It's just empty. Empty wishes and girlish desires. Having them fanned by a boy just makes you burn even faster. I'm in ashes, my tears soaking through me, and I just want to disappear. I'll always be that girl. No matter how hard I try to stray away from it. It just follows me, stepping on my heels and tripping me up. I'm embarrassed to show my face. I don't feel worthy enough to even coexist with these people. I'm trash. Nobody will ever want me for anything more than a night. Maybe a few nights tops but it always ends the same. They use me for what I am, let me stay around for a few hours, then in the morning, put me by the curb. Take out the trash.