Hey Lara, how’s it going? Your hair in perfect waves? Your makeup done like the stars in Hollywood? Of course, you’d rather die than look like who you are underneath all that. It isn’t hard to persuade people with that body of yours, even I’m distracted and you know I’m ramrod straight.

I know the whore in you. I’ve seen her smile in your mauve-painted smirk and I’ve watched her eyes shine with the look of someone who’s about to get some. I know the feeling. I’m not a virgin either, but damn Lara, I don’t throw it around like a Vegas stripper. I love and respect myself. And that, honey, is what you’re lacking.

I know every girl whose boyfriend you’ve fucked thinks the same thing: “What makes her think she can do that?” And even though it doesn’t excuse what you’ve done, those bitches were spineless. If just one girl had stood up to you, we’d all see that you are just as spineless as they were. I know why you take pleasure out of screwing with relationships and it’s a case for the social workers’ tears and paperwork.

I wish you’d quit using your crappy family life as an excuse for your behavior. It’s sad and this is coming from someone who was once in the same position. I never acted like the whore you’ve turned yourself into. I never played three guys at once. I never broke relationships apart because I could and wanted to. I am not alive to be a menace to others.

But damn Lara, did you have to go and steal my boyfriend?

You should’ve known that you would be in deep shit.

Alright, so at the time we were all in high school and everybody knows that everybody acts like a douche-bag during those fours years. My boyfriend at the time was no exception so it shouldn’t have been a surprise that he would willingly leave me for someone whose body was further along the road to maturity. In the wash of hormones, he was more concerned with having sex than hanging out with a girl who believed she was in love. You gave him sex and that was that.

Obviously I was feeling a lot of things; hurt, jealous and so angry that I swear I couldn’t see for seconds at a time. I wanted to just shove you into oncoming traffic, but obviously that wasn’t going to bring him back to me. So I watched you two, groping and kissing and further at any opportunity in school, the mall, the park, god you were a couple of rabbits. I mean, I don’t dislike sex, but to do it that much? There’s gotta be a line between pleasure and overindulgence. I wouldn’t be surprised if you crossed it.

Everybody knew you were a whore; I was just the one who came out and said it, laid it out for everyone to see at once. You’re the last person to call me spineless now, aren’t you honey? Poor you, standing there with your makeup running with your tears. You knew what you were doing was wrong, but your conscience had taken a vacation when you were fourteen and it hasn’t come back yet.

And it still hasn’t come back.

Poor you, I’m actually pitying you now.

College and you’re still up to the same shit. But baby-darling, sweetie-pie, I’m here too and you’d better stay clear. You know I know you better than anyone else. Be careful baby, you might run across another girl who will refuse to take your shit. It’s a bigger world and you’re no longer at the top.

You’re just a whore.