Just Another Teenage Girl

 

It’s you that I adore,
I will always be your whore,
You will always be the object,
I will always be your object,
You will always be the subject,
I will always be your subject.

He had a word, too. Love, he called it. But I had been used to words for a long time. I knew that that word was like the others: just a shape to fill a lack; that when the right time came, you wouldn’t need a word for that anymore than for pride or fear.