At five, she was told to sit properly, prim.
At fifteen, she was asked to be a girlfriend, a showpiece.
At 25, she was married off, and a year later, a child.
This was her role, a subordinate.
She felt cheated by life.
Anita
She thought she was cheated
She was betrayed
She was hurt.
She was let down..
She lost her Baby that mornig
Deepthi
There is no excuse to feel guilty of breaking up when you know you have been cheated with, time and again, over the months, years without an iota of guit from the other side
rekha
Celia stared at her test, wondering why it was so different from what they learned. She looked over to her friend Anthony, showed to see his arm full of sharpie markings.
The answers to the test.
Celia wanted to say something, she knew it was wrong, but it was also wrong to give such a big test on information they didn’t learn.
Woody21211
you feel cheated.. of promises made, of dreams woven together and still you end up living.. a different existence altogether…
Cini
the sickening sense of humiliation and betrayal washed over her. The voices asked what it was that she’d done that was so wrong? How could she have prevented this. Maybe you couldn’t
Kate
Conjugate it: I don’t cheat, you don’t cheat, he doesn’t cheat, she doesn’t cheat, we don’t chest, they don’t cheat. And then listen to that small voice — it could be your own, it could be your kid’s, it could be your boyfriend’s, it could, God forbid, be your teacher’s — saying, “I thought everybody cheats.” And you need to say, firmly, “And I bet you thought the emperor wasn’t wearing any clothes.”
Joanna Bressler
Parse it: I don’t cheat, you don’t cheat, he doesn’t cheat, she doesn’t cheat, we don’t chest, they don’t cheat. And then listen to that small voice — it could be your own, it could be your kid’s, it could be your boyfriend’s, it could, God forbid, be your teacher’s — saying, “I thought everybody cheats.” And you need to say, firmly, “And I bet you thought the emperor wasn’t wearing any clothes.”
Joanna Bressler
I feel like I am a cheat or rather I feel like I cheated. I cheated myself my life became a lie when I tried to build a life on a lie. lies that I thought will come true one day somehow. I am not a good person the self-loath I feel about myself is immense. I hate myself
sheftha
Don’t speak
You know just what you’re sayin’…
And I don’t need no reason…
Don’t tell me cuz it hurst… !
… Did I get that right? Are songs people say are about cheating really about that or just about menstrual cramps or your boyfriend not wanting to have sex with you on your period? I think everyone secretly knows that there’s no such thing as ‘cheating,’ per se, only rejection. That’s what everyone gets so upset about – being rejected.
Zoe
she stood there drained of feeling like a well squeezed lemon wanting more and more to be left along but gaining no traction with him
he paced backand forth sturbbornly as if testing the floor to wear away before his shoes. debating if everything was worth the trouble. reminising about the times she held him in times of need, the times vagrant depression ran rampant within his pysche, courpting his memories and invading his dreams and the only thing that made living worth wild was her and the feeling that they shared.
I feel cheated. I feel lost and hurt and broken beyond repair. Im confused about the simplest things even though they should be simple. I think I lost faith in the things I believe in due to disappointments. My foundation has crumbled and I find myself floundering for the very bricks that once held me upright. Sorrow can be so deep. And abrupt. I just want to feel happy again. I’m unsure where to start. I feel like I am easy to walk away from. I feel temporary. I ache for that security. I want to feel desired. Emotionally. I want to be able to be vulnerable without feeling weak or being battered down with logic. I want to share and be shared with. Time is fleeting and I feel the clock ticking. I don’t want to rush or be rushed. I don’t know how to heal from this. I feel betrayed. I feel used. And yet it doesn’t make sense because I feel worthless. I feel unneeded in a emotional sense. I feel like there is a bigger better deal when it comes to me. I don’t believe in words anymore. I used to. I had faith in words. But looking at my life,words seem to have caused more trouble than good. I didn’t used to feel this way. I know I didn’t. I was getting better. I don’t know what I am now. I hate I am using the word I so much. It’s not just about me. But I need to be selfish to keep what’s left of me. I need a vacation. I’m tired of the silence. I want to be spoken to. I need that. I’m used to silence. I feel no need to be known if silence is going to be my lover. I’d rather be alone because that’s how I feel anyway. I want someone to open up to me the way I do to them. It hurts, the inequality. None of this really matters. I hate myself today. I do. And the realization of this kills me. I feel like running. Running is easy. But I won’t. It never got me anywhere. I’m isolated. My parents have moved on and while they care,the love I recieve from them feels like a knife to the wrist. Sharp and glistening,yet painful and stained red from memories of picture perfect remedies and ice cold abandonment. I’m tired of being alone. Feeling this way. My lover understands but the connection has been lost. He can’t reach me on this island. I want to reach out and say we are ok. But at this moment I can’t say. My heart hurts and I’ll stay quiet to keep the peace for as long as I can because while I love him,I don’t trust him with my hurts. Not now. I just want to sleep and wake up in morning so my pain can be diluted with sun rays,bright and yellow like the hope I lost in the winter. I used to be pink. The innocent pink turned to red with my first heartbreak. From red to black,with rage and depression. Black gave way to silver. Like the moon and her mysteries,tales of love and unconscious desires being fulfilled. I learned to love myself like silver. Bold after being tarnished. Valuable. Timeless. Wise. Intuitive. Now.. I feel white. Blank. Void. Absent of any color. I feel only the tiniest bit better. Fatigue is wearing me down but I doubt sleep will come easy. I feel cheated out of the very life I am trying to create. But I try to keep others around me happy cause I left a life of loneliness to be connected to the one I love. But I’m lonely anyway. Having is different than wanting. But having and being unable to enjoy is far worse. I’d rather not know how the meal smells if I can’t partake. I can’t rely on others for my emotional security. I see that. I just want to be cherished the way I cherish others. Maybe my standards are too high. Maybe I do too much. But why do I have to change? I make others happy. But whose making me happy?
tander
i feel cheated like everythig ive doen isnt where it needs to be, all things that i do are needed for something else and i dot konw where to go from her enot cheated by anyone in particular just by the way thins are going in my life ight now and theres noone to bblame but my self
Life bowed down to her. He held her hand and kept her with him. But there was another that captured her eye, and she cheated on her lover — his name was Death.
Maddy
Her heart crumpled. “Mom?”
The woman started and looked up. Her face, framed by shiny curls and dusted with make-up, dropped into one of shock and dawning horror.
The man beside her blinked. His arms detached from her waist and he turned to her. “Who’s this?”
trickster, trickster
why oh why
how devious the deception
tempting me with dreams of possibility
only to replace them with nightmares of futility
for what purpose was my hope cheated
a vicious game played by the fates
teasing a simple man
convincing him to to believe there could be joy, reverie
then drowning him in dismal drudgery
poetwarrior
i feel cheated,when someone breach my trust,but that time I did not realise “why they have done it”.So cheated and trusted are part of our journey called LIFE.
RAGHU JIBAN NAYAK
She cheated the system,
Rigged it for herself,
Redefined every word in their dictionary
With laughter and flair and purpose.
She cheated the system,
But never herself.
She cheated well.
He looked up at the cimmerian sky and shouted, flinging his emotions up into the heavens, hoping that maybe God would cast down his net and gather the scattered fish that were his thoughts, collecting them again, rearranging the pieces. The papers were clenched in his fists and he ripped them to shreds. His hands shook with fury and disappointment. He had been cheated. Every since he could remember, he had been planning his trip from Morrocco to Spain, to escape the wretched life that he had there. He couldn’t ride with the other poor individuals on tiny, crammed rafts, but had meticulously worked to plan his escape. He had used every last cent, his heart had drained alongside his pocket, but it was all worthless now. The man whom he had paid to acquire a boat had run off with his money. He had nothing. The wind moaned with him, and the river that curved in the valley below him turned deep gray as if laced with a contagious sorrow.
A game of Marco-polo; I see your eyes crack open under the water as you reach for me. Slighted by the injustice, I try it myself, the slightest bit of light filters into my eyes, and I brush your foot as you try to swim away. I don’t want to laude the victory over you; I don’t even want to smile. There is no accomplishment, not even in the revenge; this water doesn’t clean the deed, and I want to be purged- but it is a stain on silk, not an infection, and it cannot be rid of, only spread like ink. Tied to rules, trying to follow where others raise an eyebrow- they scoff, they call it naive, they call my truth a lie, they call it impossible, they call it a waste of time and effort. A few mistakes spread over a lifetime, despite all effort, and that is an excuse to never be believed in; scoffs turn smug, all eyes waiting to feed on another’s defeat to the status quo.
He had cheated. Or at least he felt as if he had cheated. The sword was heavy in his hands, still covered with the blood of his brother. The duel was meant to be fair, even, a perfect match. But even so, he had dominated, winning swiftly. The crowd was aghast with amazement upon seeing him cleave off his own brothers head. So swift, so terrible.
To give up your life for a better one, only to find out that in giving your life, you’ve also given up the will to live. I thought we had a deal. Turns out we didn’t. Now I’m left feeling cheated.
Ashley
when i finally put the pieces together
the me between two bouts of her together
the fact that we were never supposed to be together
being cheated on stings at least a little bit forever
Why do people feel cheated? Usually everyone has expectations about others. When that expectation is not met or if someone acts against what you expect from them, you feel cheated.
It was December 31st, 1999. For many the fear of computers destroying the world at the turn of the new millennia was as foolish as my belief that using a GameShark couldn’t possibly hurt my precious copy of Pokemon Silver.
I was young, and less impatient than infatuated with discovery. Back then you had to connect to dial-up internet and browse through a hundred crude HTML sites that loaded with all the speed of a slug salted by Emeril Lagasse to find what you needed; more often than not you were met with colorful text, a tiled background, and hundreds of whatever the predecessor to a GIF was called – sometimes you’d get lucky, and find the few programmers who discovered all the codes you need to feed your unsatiable appetite for new experiences.
I did just that.
I sat on the couch sucked into my screen, and one by one, input the codes, running into every Pokemon between 1 and 251. I needed the legendaries. I needed the one-off trades like Steelix or Politoed that I left behind in favor of Scizor and Kingdra, and one by one, I got them. When I finally exhausted the list and thought I’d seen all there was to see, I opened the menu, and stared in terror –
The PoKeGEAR was missing. Gone. Kaput.
Knowing Joey wouldn’t call me about his stupid Rattata (good on you Joey, for sticking through the whole game with one little rat) would’ve made it better, but no more Oak, no more Lance, no more calling my favorite trainer, and no more knowing if I could even get calls from them. No more map, no more knowing the way – and what’s worse, it took my party with them.
I don’t remember if I laughed or cried at the unfathomable irony of having nothing and everything at the same time. Today, my bias tells me it was somewhere in-between.
It hurt. The pain of finding the ugly son of a bitch in their bed banging her best friend like there was no tomorrow. It hurt like hell when he looked her right in the eyes and continued on with their fucking. She imagined that it must’ve really hurt when she stabbed the both of them with the knife from their kitchen. Twisted it in her eye and in his heart. She had to admit, she didn’t regret it one bit. But the reasoning for that was because, she didn’t get caught.
E.J.
She often thought she had been cheated out of her childhood and early teen years. There were no photos of her parents and brother proudly flanking her at high school graduation. The family sedan never received its first fender bender from her first driving attempt.
Here he was, standing with the paper crisp in his hands, fresh and warm from the printer. While it feels pleasant to the touch, the news it brings stabs him like needles.
F- Due to cheating
Gerard was so going to get it for this.
Talia
I never really cheated. Well yes, I guess I did. But I wasn’t serious about it, and nor was he. And the one I was seeing had never said we were serious and he was away so much and then along came the new guy and suddenly I was seeing both of them! I hated it but I couldn’t see how to get out of it gracefully.
Valerian
It seems stupid and sad but I’m jealous of my boyfriend’s daughter. I know she’s going to grow up to be a lovely woman. She dances, plays music, studies hard. She already knows how to be beautiful. I think of being 15, living like trash, and no idea how to be a real person. I still feel this anxiety, and I have few talents or skills. I don’t feel valuable in the same way. I am jealous that life can be richer and different depending on the foundation people have. Doubt and anxiety can be bred right out of us, or they can be ingrained to the point where everything in life tastes a little bit off and you are always a little bit nervous, seeing shadows at the edge of your vision. I am happy she is being well-raised, but I see already how we are very different sorts of women. I worry I will always stand in stark contrast to her.
i’ve already done a 60 second writing challenge on cheated.
daniel
A moment that lasts on the skin forever. Always there, in the shadows and creaks of the finger tips that no one ever would stumble upon unless they had your eyes pinned to these exact spots. But everyone could see, magnified and rich in technicolor were the traces of a late night that left you hollow but filled with so much empty loathing that you swore you resembled a balloon. Bursting and raising up to draw attention but bolstered by some unseen great helium-hatred. Years and months and years and eons and you’ve washed your hands a thousand times over to scrub to the bones of your bones. And you’ve carried this with you in the scars and caverns of age lines over your body. And then someone says, “You need to forgive yourself”. And you’re still trying to figure out how words can fill in all these pot holes and jagged cracks and this brilliantly carved evidence across you as a billboard of filth. But you notice, it hasn’t been a masterwork of etchings laying over your stomach and elbows. The lines are softer, the canyons gentler, a layer of repent and progression silent over your terrain of being. And your love, holy shit, your love has now replaced that fluorescent beacon with something more hectic and ever reaching than that self doubt ever could shine.
She felt cheated, looking at the small toy that the machine had dropped into her hand. She looked in the window again. She wanted one of the big stuffed animals on the display, not this ugly plastic soldier. She started to cry and her mother comforted her. “That’s just the way life is.”
I once retook an exam in college and cheated. I have never told anyone about it. I am so ashamed of myself, but it helped my grade. It was an entry level English midterm and the professor put me in a room alone with a computer with internet access and I looked up an answer.
Andrew
Ich wurde reingelegt, immer wieder reingelegt. Ich hatte geglaubt, ich könnte vertrauen, ich hatte geglaubt, die anderen würden es ernst nehmen, als sie meine Hand nahmen, als sie mir tief in die Augen schauten, jeden Tag mehrmals, als sie meine Nähe suchten, als sie sagten, ich würden ihnen etwas bedeuten, ich wäre etwas Besonderes für sie. Und dann ließen sie mich fallen.
Mister Nova discovered that both Roger and Henry had cheated on their history essays, but the funniest part was how. It had all started with a glance at a Wikipedia page, then at some of the sources linked to said page. As it happened, Roger and Henry had copied from the exact same articles verbatim – and they had worked together on the plan, too!
In short, Mister Nova was happy to invite the sheepish boys to his office at the very farthest corner of the history department building, sharpening a pencil and whistling a tune as they ambled in.
At five, she was told to sit properly, prim.
At fifteen, she was asked to be a girlfriend, a showpiece.
At 25, she was married off, and a year later, a child.
This was her role, a subordinate.
She felt cheated by life.
She thought she was cheated
She was betrayed
She was hurt.
She was let down..
She lost her Baby that mornig
There is no excuse to feel guilty of breaking up when you know you have been cheated with, time and again, over the months, years without an iota of guit from the other side
Celia stared at her test, wondering why it was so different from what they learned. She looked over to her friend Anthony, showed to see his arm full of sharpie markings.
The answers to the test.
Celia wanted to say something, she knew it was wrong, but it was also wrong to give such a big test on information they didn’t learn.
you feel cheated.. of promises made, of dreams woven together and still you end up living.. a different existence altogether…
the sickening sense of humiliation and betrayal washed over her. The voices asked what it was that she’d done that was so wrong? How could she have prevented this. Maybe you couldn’t
Conjugate it: I don’t cheat, you don’t cheat, he doesn’t cheat, she doesn’t cheat, we don’t chest, they don’t cheat. And then listen to that small voice — it could be your own, it could be your kid’s, it could be your boyfriend’s, it could, God forbid, be your teacher’s — saying, “I thought everybody cheats.” And you need to say, firmly, “And I bet you thought the emperor wasn’t wearing any clothes.”
Parse it: I don’t cheat, you don’t cheat, he doesn’t cheat, she doesn’t cheat, we don’t chest, they don’t cheat. And then listen to that small voice — it could be your own, it could be your kid’s, it could be your boyfriend’s, it could, God forbid, be your teacher’s — saying, “I thought everybody cheats.” And you need to say, firmly, “And I bet you thought the emperor wasn’t wearing any clothes.”
I feel like I am a cheat or rather I feel like I cheated. I cheated myself my life became a lie when I tried to build a life on a lie. lies that I thought will come true one day somehow. I am not a good person the self-loath I feel about myself is immense. I hate myself
Don’t speak
You know just what you’re sayin’…
And I don’t need no reason…
Don’t tell me cuz it hurst… !
… Did I get that right? Are songs people say are about cheating really about that or just about menstrual cramps or your boyfriend not wanting to have sex with you on your period? I think everyone secretly knows that there’s no such thing as ‘cheating,’ per se, only rejection. That’s what everyone gets so upset about – being rejected.
she stood there drained of feeling like a well squeezed lemon wanting more and more to be left along but gaining no traction with him
he paced backand forth sturbbornly as if testing the floor to wear away before his shoes. debating if everything was worth the trouble. reminising about the times she held him in times of need, the times vagrant depression ran rampant within his pysche, courpting his memories and invading his dreams and the only thing that made living worth wild was her and the feeling that they shared.
I feel cheated. I feel lost and hurt and broken beyond repair. Im confused about the simplest things even though they should be simple. I think I lost faith in the things I believe in due to disappointments. My foundation has crumbled and I find myself floundering for the very bricks that once held me upright. Sorrow can be so deep. And abrupt. I just want to feel happy again. I’m unsure where to start. I feel like I am easy to walk away from. I feel temporary. I ache for that security. I want to feel desired. Emotionally. I want to be able to be vulnerable without feeling weak or being battered down with logic. I want to share and be shared with. Time is fleeting and I feel the clock ticking. I don’t want to rush or be rushed. I don’t know how to heal from this. I feel betrayed. I feel used. And yet it doesn’t make sense because I feel worthless. I feel unneeded in a emotional sense. I feel like there is a bigger better deal when it comes to me. I don’t believe in words anymore. I used to. I had faith in words. But looking at my life,words seem to have caused more trouble than good. I didn’t used to feel this way. I know I didn’t. I was getting better. I don’t know what I am now. I hate I am using the word I so much. It’s not just about me. But I need to be selfish to keep what’s left of me. I need a vacation. I’m tired of the silence. I want to be spoken to. I need that. I’m used to silence. I feel no need to be known if silence is going to be my lover. I’d rather be alone because that’s how I feel anyway. I want someone to open up to me the way I do to them. It hurts, the inequality. None of this really matters. I hate myself today. I do. And the realization of this kills me. I feel like running. Running is easy. But I won’t. It never got me anywhere. I’m isolated. My parents have moved on and while they care,the love I recieve from them feels like a knife to the wrist. Sharp and glistening,yet painful and stained red from memories of picture perfect remedies and ice cold abandonment. I’m tired of being alone. Feeling this way. My lover understands but the connection has been lost. He can’t reach me on this island. I want to reach out and say we are ok. But at this moment I can’t say. My heart hurts and I’ll stay quiet to keep the peace for as long as I can because while I love him,I don’t trust him with my hurts. Not now. I just want to sleep and wake up in morning so my pain can be diluted with sun rays,bright and yellow like the hope I lost in the winter. I used to be pink. The innocent pink turned to red with my first heartbreak. From red to black,with rage and depression. Black gave way to silver. Like the moon and her mysteries,tales of love and unconscious desires being fulfilled. I learned to love myself like silver. Bold after being tarnished. Valuable. Timeless. Wise. Intuitive. Now.. I feel white. Blank. Void. Absent of any color. I feel only the tiniest bit better. Fatigue is wearing me down but I doubt sleep will come easy. I feel cheated out of the very life I am trying to create. But I try to keep others around me happy cause I left a life of loneliness to be connected to the one I love. But I’m lonely anyway. Having is different than wanting. But having and being unable to enjoy is far worse. I’d rather not know how the meal smells if I can’t partake. I can’t rely on others for my emotional security. I see that. I just want to be cherished the way I cherish others. Maybe my standards are too high. Maybe I do too much. But why do I have to change? I make others happy. But whose making me happy?
i feel cheated like everythig ive doen isnt where it needs to be, all things that i do are needed for something else and i dot konw where to go from her enot cheated by anyone in particular just by the way thins are going in my life ight now and theres noone to bblame but my self
Denied what is rightfully yours.
Life bowed down to her. He held her hand and kept her with him. But there was another that captured her eye, and she cheated on her lover — his name was Death.
Her heart crumpled. “Mom?”
The woman started and looked up. Her face, framed by shiny curls and dusted with make-up, dropped into one of shock and dawning horror.
The man beside her blinked. His arms detached from her waist and he turned to her. “Who’s this?”
trickster, trickster
why oh why
how devious the deception
tempting me with dreams of possibility
only to replace them with nightmares of futility
for what purpose was my hope cheated
a vicious game played by the fates
teasing a simple man
convincing him to to believe there could be joy, reverie
then drowning him in dismal drudgery
i feel cheated,when someone breach my trust,but that time I did not realise “why they have done it”.So cheated and trusted are part of our journey called LIFE.
She cheated the system,
Rigged it for herself,
Redefined every word in their dictionary
With laughter and flair and purpose.
She cheated the system,
But never herself.
She cheated well.
He looked up at the cimmerian sky and shouted, flinging his emotions up into the heavens, hoping that maybe God would cast down his net and gather the scattered fish that were his thoughts, collecting them again, rearranging the pieces. The papers were clenched in his fists and he ripped them to shreds. His hands shook with fury and disappointment. He had been cheated. Every since he could remember, he had been planning his trip from Morrocco to Spain, to escape the wretched life that he had there. He couldn’t ride with the other poor individuals on tiny, crammed rafts, but had meticulously worked to plan his escape. He had used every last cent, his heart had drained alongside his pocket, but it was all worthless now. The man whom he had paid to acquire a boat had run off with his money. He had nothing. The wind moaned with him, and the river that curved in the valley below him turned deep gray as if laced with a contagious sorrow.
A game of Marco-polo; I see your eyes crack open under the water as you reach for me. Slighted by the injustice, I try it myself, the slightest bit of light filters into my eyes, and I brush your foot as you try to swim away. I don’t want to laude the victory over you; I don’t even want to smile. There is no accomplishment, not even in the revenge; this water doesn’t clean the deed, and I want to be purged- but it is a stain on silk, not an infection, and it cannot be rid of, only spread like ink. Tied to rules, trying to follow where others raise an eyebrow- they scoff, they call it naive, they call my truth a lie, they call it impossible, they call it a waste of time and effort. A few mistakes spread over a lifetime, despite all effort, and that is an excuse to never be believed in; scoffs turn smug, all eyes waiting to feed on another’s defeat to the status quo.
He had cheated. Or at least he felt as if he had cheated. The sword was heavy in his hands, still covered with the blood of his brother. The duel was meant to be fair, even, a perfect match. But even so, he had dominated, winning swiftly. The crowd was aghast with amazement upon seeing him cleave off his own brothers head. So swift, so terrible.
Cheated is an horrible feeling, It feels like the word comes to an end and you are burned alive. It is the source of great pain.
To give up your life for a better one, only to find out that in giving your life, you’ve also given up the will to live. I thought we had a deal. Turns out we didn’t. Now I’m left feeling cheated.
when i finally put the pieces together
the me between two bouts of her together
the fact that we were never supposed to be together
being cheated on stings at least a little bit forever
Joshua cheated on his science exam but still only got 70/100. Annabelle didn’t cheat and got 100/100. because she studied.
Why do people feel cheated? Usually everyone has expectations about others. When that expectation is not met or if someone acts against what you expect from them, you feel cheated.
It was December 31st, 1999. For many the fear of computers destroying the world at the turn of the new millennia was as foolish as my belief that using a GameShark couldn’t possibly hurt my precious copy of Pokemon Silver.
I was young, and less impatient than infatuated with discovery. Back then you had to connect to dial-up internet and browse through a hundred crude HTML sites that loaded with all the speed of a slug salted by Emeril Lagasse to find what you needed; more often than not you were met with colorful text, a tiled background, and hundreds of whatever the predecessor to a GIF was called – sometimes you’d get lucky, and find the few programmers who discovered all the codes you need to feed your unsatiable appetite for new experiences.
I did just that.
I sat on the couch sucked into my screen, and one by one, input the codes, running into every Pokemon between 1 and 251. I needed the legendaries. I needed the one-off trades like Steelix or Politoed that I left behind in favor of Scizor and Kingdra, and one by one, I got them. When I finally exhausted the list and thought I’d seen all there was to see, I opened the menu, and stared in terror –
The PoKeGEAR was missing. Gone. Kaput.
Knowing Joey wouldn’t call me about his stupid Rattata (good on you Joey, for sticking through the whole game with one little rat) would’ve made it better, but no more Oak, no more Lance, no more calling my favorite trainer, and no more knowing if I could even get calls from them. No more map, no more knowing the way – and what’s worse, it took my party with them.
I don’t remember if I laughed or cried at the unfathomable irony of having nothing and everything at the same time. Today, my bias tells me it was somewhere in-between.
It hurt. The pain of finding the ugly son of a bitch in their bed banging her best friend like there was no tomorrow. It hurt like hell when he looked her right in the eyes and continued on with their fucking. She imagined that it must’ve really hurt when she stabbed the both of them with the knife from their kitchen. Twisted it in her eye and in his heart. She had to admit, she didn’t regret it one bit. But the reasoning for that was because, she didn’t get caught.
She often thought she had been cheated out of her childhood and early teen years. There were no photos of her parents and brother proudly flanking her at high school graduation. The family sedan never received its first fender bender from her first driving attempt.
It was all his fault.
Here he was, standing with the paper crisp in his hands, fresh and warm from the printer. While it feels pleasant to the touch, the news it brings stabs him like needles.
F- Due to cheating
Gerard was so going to get it for this.
I never really cheated. Well yes, I guess I did. But I wasn’t serious about it, and nor was he. And the one I was seeing had never said we were serious and he was away so much and then along came the new guy and suddenly I was seeing both of them! I hated it but I couldn’t see how to get out of it gracefully.
It seems stupid and sad but I’m jealous of my boyfriend’s daughter. I know she’s going to grow up to be a lovely woman. She dances, plays music, studies hard. She already knows how to be beautiful. I think of being 15, living like trash, and no idea how to be a real person. I still feel this anxiety, and I have few talents or skills. I don’t feel valuable in the same way. I am jealous that life can be richer and different depending on the foundation people have. Doubt and anxiety can be bred right out of us, or they can be ingrained to the point where everything in life tastes a little bit off and you are always a little bit nervous, seeing shadows at the edge of your vision. I am happy she is being well-raised, but I see already how we are very different sorts of women. I worry I will always stand in stark contrast to her.
You are beautiful. You smell like plastic. I could watch you forever.
i’ve already done a 60 second writing challenge on cheated.
A moment that lasts on the skin forever. Always there, in the shadows and creaks of the finger tips that no one ever would stumble upon unless they had your eyes pinned to these exact spots. But everyone could see, magnified and rich in technicolor were the traces of a late night that left you hollow but filled with so much empty loathing that you swore you resembled a balloon. Bursting and raising up to draw attention but bolstered by some unseen great helium-hatred. Years and months and years and eons and you’ve washed your hands a thousand times over to scrub to the bones of your bones. And you’ve carried this with you in the scars and caverns of age lines over your body. And then someone says, “You need to forgive yourself”. And you’re still trying to figure out how words can fill in all these pot holes and jagged cracks and this brilliantly carved evidence across you as a billboard of filth. But you notice, it hasn’t been a masterwork of etchings laying over your stomach and elbows. The lines are softer, the canyons gentler, a layer of repent and progression silent over your terrain of being. And your love, holy shit, your love has now replaced that fluorescent beacon with something more hectic and ever reaching than that self doubt ever could shine.
She felt cheated, looking at the small toy that the machine had dropped into her hand. She looked in the window again. She wanted one of the big stuffed animals on the display, not this ugly plastic soldier. She started to cry and her mother comforted her. “That’s just the way life is.”
I once retook an exam in college and cheated. I have never told anyone about it. I am so ashamed of myself, but it helped my grade. It was an entry level English midterm and the professor put me in a room alone with a computer with internet access and I looked up an answer.
Ich wurde reingelegt, immer wieder reingelegt. Ich hatte geglaubt, ich könnte vertrauen, ich hatte geglaubt, die anderen würden es ernst nehmen, als sie meine Hand nahmen, als sie mir tief in die Augen schauten, jeden Tag mehrmals, als sie meine Nähe suchten, als sie sagten, ich würden ihnen etwas bedeuten, ich wäre etwas Besonderes für sie. Und dann ließen sie mich fallen.
Mister Nova discovered that both Roger and Henry had cheated on their history essays, but the funniest part was how. It had all started with a glance at a Wikipedia page, then at some of the sources linked to said page. As it happened, Roger and Henry had copied from the exact same articles verbatim – and they had worked together on the plan, too!
In short, Mister Nova was happy to invite the sheepish boys to his office at the very farthest corner of the history department building, sharpening a pencil and whistling a tune as they ambled in.