When I was 14,

A boy called me beautiful

Behind the cover of a cell phone

But rejected my company

When I met him face-to-face

In any hallway

Where eyes could see

The girl I was..

And made me insecure

Of my entire being.

When I was 14

I judged my self-worth

Based on whether or not

My face could keep a boy interested

Rather than hoping my

Personality and wit could

Entertain him

Even though he never took the time

To learn my last name,

Let alone the beauty of my soul.

When I was 15

A boy asked to see me

In public

Late at night,

And my little heart soared

When he argued for me to come

Because he loved me

And he needed to see me.

Wait... no.

I was 15 years old

When a boy claimed to love me

When in reality he loved

The way my boobs and ass

Felt in his hands

When he took advantage of me.

He didn’t need to see me,

He needed to see my body.

He didn’t love me,

He loved my body.

I was 15 years old,

And I gave myself completely

To the boy who claimed to love me

And then ignored me

For months on end.

And still I blamed myself.

Because he was a god

Sent from heaven

And I was a peasant,

Meant to worship at his feet

And kiss the ground he walked on

Because I was beneath him

And thank god he loves me.

I was 15 years old

When I learned the hard way

That boys will say whatever they need

To trick you to give them

Whatever they want.

Because their wants

Are more important than

Your feelings.

I was 16 years old

When I started thinking that

Happiness depended upon others

And how they perceived me.

So I focused less on classes

And more on makeup,

And how close my shorts

Can be to breaking dress code

Before I get in trouble,

And how much skin

I can show before

I become a slut.

I was 16 years old

And already I was obsessed

With the idea of being wanted.

I threw myself at anyone who

Would spare a second for me.

Who cares if I was killing myself?

At 16 years old,

A boy told me I was beautiful

In the hallway at school

While looking into my eyes

And I didn’t feel the need

To question his motivation.

He held me when I broke down

And didn’t mark me as

"Damaged goods”

Because I wasn’t a virgin.

He made me feel like a goddess

And treated me like a queen.

But then..

Suddenly I was 16 years old

And being treated like a felon

After losing my best friend.

Having to constantly check in

With the boy I have dated a month

Because he "gets jealous"

And "it’s no big deal”

Because clearly I am crazy

For wanting to be trusted

By the guy who claims to love me

But can’t let me go to band camp

Without demanding a play-by-play

And accusing me of cheating.

And when I get up the courage

To love myself and

Let him go,

I was accused of being a whore

And told I never loved him

Because that is the only way

He could justify not being my

Oxygen.

I am now 17 years old

Committed to a guy

Who appreciates the way

My voice raises when I am

Impassioned, and

How quick-witted I am.

I am committed to a guy

Who wants to see me succeed

In everything I do,

And understands that I am

A free spirit

Who cannot be stomped out

By some stupid words.

I am 17 years old,

And I am a goddess,

And no man or woman can

Ever steal that from me,

Or convince me I am anything less.

And yes,

I still hear that I am prettier

Covered in makeup

While hanging off of some boys’ arm,

But I know I am not a prize

I am a miracle

And if I grace you with my time,

Count yourself lucky.

Because I am beautiful,

And if I wanna be with you,

You must be pretty beautiful too.