I’m sure when you spoke those words you had no idea they would reach back to me. You never thought that someone you confided in would feel guilty enough to tell me. You never thought that the words you all spoke behind closed doors, while sipping alcohol, would reach my ears. Yet, they did, and no matter what way you put it promiscuous, whore, floozy, slut, it really doesn’t matter because they all mean the same thing. It’s another word that was created to bring another human being down.

Usually when I hear someone talk about my friends or I hear news that I don’t like I become extremely angry. Not yelling and screaming, just a silent anger that boils inside, but this time, it was different. I was sad. These men, some of whom I believed to be my best friends, spoke hurtful words. What hurt the most was the fact that no one, not even the person I trusted the most at the time, stood up for me. What they didn’t realize was that by speaking those words they changed and shaped who I became over the next year.

Did I cry when I heard? Yes. Did I confront them? No. Did they ever find out I knew what they said? Yes. Yet, instead of an apology, which was all I really wanted, I received nothing. Instead, I got only their anger toward the person that told me. I am not going to defend why I am not a “whore” or make a huge speech on how “women should be who they want to be and not worry about the opinions of others." I am also not going to wish that they didn’t speak such harsh words about me. I only want to talk about how I dealt with this.

I truly don’t believe these boys understood the gravity of the words they spoke, being friends of my, at the time boyfriend, meant they immediately gained my trust. But by hearing those words, and knowing what they thought of me every day, it drove me to avoid them. Some people would probably say I just should have brushed it off, but I couldn’t. As much as I hate to admit it, I let those words define me. It was like having a dark cloud that loomed over my head anywhere I went. It was hard to share these feelings with people, so I kept them inside. This drove me to wanting to be alone, and eventually ending it with a boy because I hated his friends. Then, those hurtful words came back to me over an angry phone call. The words “whore," and that was finally all I could take.

Even months after these incidents, there are still days where I grow extremely sad. I can’t explain to you or anyone why I let these words define me. Why I became reckless and dependent on people before this past summer. I can only tell you I did.

Over this summer, I’ve had to deal with my own demons, being away from school and friends brought me to become self-aware, I have become careful about what I say about and toward people, terrified that the words I speak could destroy them from the inside, the way they did me. I made a promise to myself to never make anyone feel the same way that I did.

In the end, do I forgive these boys? Yes. However, sometimes when I see them, I still find myself hoping for just one word, “ sorry." With those words, I could wipe the slate clean and start anew. I am still fighting with the dark cloud that looms, but I have refused to let the words of tipsy inconsiderate boys define and haunt me. Looking back, I don’t believe the outcome of those words would have shaped my path differently, it only quickened the inevitable phone call that would still bring me to tears.

For any girl reading this, I only want you to take away the fact that you can’t control what other people say, only how you react to them. I could have reacted in a better way, but in the end the only person that has to deal with the words said to you are yourself.