Disgusting

When Mom and I arrived, we were surprised by her glam team at their mansion because they actually hired professionals just for this.

“You look like a simple bitch queen in that gown, Celiza!” Bea said artfully after her make up artist and stylist arranged for me.

“I know!” I also said artfully to her, but when I saw myself in the full length mirror I was almost stunned.

“What a pretty bitch.” I whisper to myself.

Red satin gown with high slit and low neckline. The soft cloth hugs my curves in all the right places. This dress speaks a lot about my personality and wildness.

“Yes sister, you’re so beautiful!” Bliss was happy to praise me. Like Mom, there seemed to be a star in her eye because it also shone while looking at me.

They all laughed at her comment.

“I’m sorry Bea, there’s nothing left for Bliss.”

“It’s alright. I missed her too!” She then hugged Bliss.

It snorted. “You’re beautiful! Look at you sister! We look alike!” It jumps as it shows off the messy lipstick on its lips.

Bliss is a playful, also smart but mischievous child. Bliss is a man, but her name sounds like a woman. A to is also handsome, white, with a pointed nose, long eyelashes, thin lips.

“You’re a really beautiful sister.” Smiling, she said.

“I will wear gowns too someday, much prettier than that.”

“Of course.” I smiled and ran my fingers through her hair. My forehead furrowed as I left a few hairs on my finger.

It’s not like this when Bliss’s hair falls out before, is it?

Hmmm … Maybe with shampoo.

“How about I Bliss?”

“Pretty too. But she’s prettier…” She pointed in my direction.

We just laughed.

I glance at my own reflection in the mirror. I looked at Mom in the back.

“Take home the crown, Celiza.” Mom said.

I took a deep breath.

I smiled in the mirror, I will.

I couldn’t help but wonder what Magnus was wearing or if he was actually going to prom night.

Because I never asked him or even talked to him when that happened.

Can I see him there?

Why am I feeling this way?

My heart was beating fast, I was feeling hot, I was nervous and excited to think that I would see him later

“Are we going to wait for Toci?” My brows furrowed as I turned to Bea.

“What?” I asked her.

“Why? Won’t he pick you up? I thought you both knew? Same as before?” Surprisingly it says.

“So let’s go down.”

Mom’s eyes narrowed.

“We’ll just meet him there,” I said.

Bea didn’t wonder why I answered like that, maybe she didn’t want to have bad vibes because it’s Midnight Ball today and she can have her crush with her, because she likes it.

“I’ll call you later, Manong.” Bea’s artistic promise.

Bea brought their driver to drive and pick us up later after the prom.

“My gosh bitch, I’m so excited!” He was thrilled when we got out of his car.

I smiled happily in response to what he said. We went inside. It’s very noisy here, a lot of people are dancing right away in the middle even though it should be later. Many are already kissing even if it’s not midnight.

As I walk into the room, the familiar sensation of eyes on me washes over like a warm wave.

It's become an everyday occurrence, the lingering gazes, the whispered comments, and the constant curiosity that seems to follow my every step.

I've grown accustomed to the attention, a double-edged sword that both empowers and confines me.

It's not that I seek this spotlight or intentionally crave the limelight. No, it's simply a consequence of the way I exist in this world.

Perhaps it's my outward appearance, the way my presence commands a certain allure, or maybe it's the confidence that radiates from within, drawing people in like moths to a flame.

Sometimes it's flattering, to be admired and desired, to know that my presence can captivate a room. It strokes my ego, providing a sense of validation that fuels my self-assurance.

But there are moments when this attention becomes suffocating, a heavy weight that threatens to crush my individuality beneath its magnitude.

The long phrases of admiration and adoration become a whirlwind of noise, drowning out my own voice. It's as if I'm reduced to a mere object of fascination, stripped of the complexities that make me who I am.

I yearn for genuine connections, conversations that delve beyond the surface-level infatuation, and allow me to be seen for more than just my outward appearance.

People often assume they know me, projecting their fantasies and desires onto the canvas of my existence.

They create narratives based on their assumptions, weaving stories that may or may not align with my truth.

It's a delicate dance, navigating the delicate balance between embracing the attention and asserting my own identity.

I've learned to guard my heart, to protect my vulnerability behind a carefully crafted facade. It's a defense mechanism that shields me from those who are attracted solely to the surface, preventing them from breaking through the layers and discovering the depths that lie beneath.

But at times, I wonder if this self-imposed barrier is isolating me from the genuine connections I crave.

So here I stand, caught between the desire to be seen and the longing for authenticity.

I am a girl who is used to attention, but who yearns for more than just fleeting infatuation. I am complex, multidimensional, and deserving of love and understanding beyond the confines of appearances.

And in the midst of this whirlwind, I strive to find the delicate balance between embracing the attention and being true to myself.

Bea violently pulled me to her friends’ table, which was also made of plastic. Rich but not well -mannered, it was good to know that Jean was kind.

“Oh my gosh! You’re so pretty, gurl!” A friend of Bea’s praised me as we approached their table.

“Not that pretty. I’m prettier than her, though.” It recovers from what was said. His right eyebrow was still raised when he said that.

I hovered over it with a look. It also has a different kind of callus on its face, not feeling ashamed.

Does he praise me and Insult. He makes me an instrument to lift himself up.

“Don’t listen to her. She’s just envious of you,” Bea said.

“And she will stay that way.” I laughed.

As I stare into the midst of the vibrant crowd, a surge of exhilaration courses through my veins. The energy of their collective gaze washes over me, electrifying every inch of my being.

It’s a feeling I’ve grown to crave, a dance between performer and audience, where I become the centerpiece of their adoration.

There’s something undeniably intoxicating about being the center of attention. The way their eyes are drawn to me, fixated and captivated by my presence.

It fills me with a sense of empowerment, knowing that I have the ability to command the spotlight and leave an indelible impression on those around me.

The long phrases of praise and admiration whispered in hushed tones fuel my confidence like a roaring fire.

Each word becomes a brushstroke, painting a portrait of a girl who is both extraordinary and irresistible. It’s an affirmation of my allure, a validation that I possess a magnetic charm that cannot be ignored.

In these moments, I’m acutely aware of the power I hold. I can mold their perceptions, create an experience that transcends the ordinary.

Their attention becomes a canvas upon which I can paint a story, a narrative that takes them on a journey of excitement, awe, and wonder.

It’s a symbiotic relationship, as their fascination fuels my own exhilaration, creating a feedback loop of energy and passion.

The crowd becomes an extension of my own desires, a reflection of my own dreams and aspirations. Their presence ignites a fire within me, propelling me to push the boundaries of what I thought possible.

Their cheers and applause serve as a constant reminder that I am not alone, that there is a community of supporters who believe in me and my abilities.

Yet amidst the sea of adoration, I am not oblivious to the fleeting nature of their attention.

It is a double-edged sword, as the same crowd that lifts me up today may move on to the next sensation tomorrow. But for now, in this moment, I revel in their fascination, savoring every second of their admiration.

I am the girl who embraces the attention, who thrives under the spotlight. The allure of the crowd, the long phrases of adoration, they fuel my passion and drive me forward.

I am not afraid to bask in their applause, to relish the excitement that accompanies the journey of being in the limelight.

And in this symbiotic relationship between performer and audience, I find a sense of purpose and fulfillment that propels me to continue shining brightly.

A few students started dancing as the party sound played on the speaker.

Different colors also appeared on the dance floor that if you are not used to it you will feel dizzy.

“Celiza, let’s dance!” Bea asked me in surprise, I glared at the man standing on its side. He probably already liked it.

I went home. “Maybe later.”

“Okay! Got to dance with this man.” Smiling he said, he even winked.

What kind of nonsense is this?

Five minutes passed as I just sat here, staring at the people passing by in front of me and side by side. To people dancing happily.

I sighed. I scanned the place for the millionth time. Hoping to find him in the crowd… But he’s not there.

He’s not here.

He’s not going.

Damn! Why am I thinking of him? He’s the one who doesn’t care about me.

He seems to have learned. Good luck from him!

I crossed my arms and rested my back on the chair.

Damn!

As I looked at them I couldn’t help but wonder because every time I look at people’s happy faces I feel the opposite.

I am beautiful and sexy. I’m a head turner and I will be crowned as the queen of the night but something is missing.

The atmosphere and people around me were fun but I couldn’t help but be happy.

“Hey, gorgeous.” A baritone voice said behind me, while covering my eyes with his hand.

With the smell of its perfume I already knew who it was.

“Stop that Toci,” I said irritatingly.

“You really know me, babe.” Her voice was full of joy, she must have smiled too, she removed her hands that covered my eyes, when I turned to her I was right.

“Why the queen of the night alone?” he smirked.

If then I was fascinated by that smile of his, now I am disgusted. I just remember that that’s how he got me and his women.