It was simple, really, Simple and foolproof, if she did say so herself. Which she did, many times, to herself. No crushes, no dating, no marriage. Even at seven, she was no fool. Romance required at least some heartbreak, and while she liked to pretend otherwise, she knew she was delicate. Better just to stay away from the idea entirely than risk a little bit of hurt.
As if it didn’t hurt. Coping mechanisms have a tendency to be self-destructive, easy to acquire, and tough to beat. Trying to beat the desire to be desired out of your system took many blows from a heavy sledge. In her case, that sledge was the repeated reasons of why she deemed herself undesirable.
It hurt, having to repeat every so often, lying awake at night staring at the ceiling, ignoring pangs in her chest. But it worked. It was supposed to.
And then she got sloppy, that was the only reason she could think of. She slipped up, and now she was about to pay dearly.
:::
continuation of my story I'm writing. about myself.