It's not all it's cracked up to be.
June 4th, 1999, 11:35pm.
I'm lying on my bed, the lights are dim. In front of me is a stranger. Behind me is my virginity.
I cry. I can't stop spitting. I feel terrible, disgusted, trashy... like waste.. like scum.. like a whore. This guy I barely knew.. I invited him to my house.. and my innocence I gave away.
While my curiosity and my hormones proved dominant over my logic and my heart, it was an experience. It was a mistake, and I have learned.
How can I put my feelings into words.... perhaps with the sentence "They were right.. for once." The art of love is not to be an act, not to be wasted upon anyone who walks up to your front door, but it is to be saved for someone you truly love.
I have learned this the hard way. It's a shame.
While all of us want it from anybody or anything sometimes, it's not worth it when it's all through. I wasted myself. I totally wasted myself.
But I learned.
"Life's a bitch, and now.. so am I." (not really inspiring, but humorous)