A deep sigh. I did it, I finally did it. The game hasn't even started yet, but already my heart is racing. Will they pick me? Will I finally meet him, my destined one? Leaning back in my chair I close my eyes to block the painful words. "I like you because you're pretty, but I don't want a girlfriend with an ugly heart." My eyes fly open. "Idiot! I'm not the one with an ugly heart! She is!" I shut down my computer, walking over to my bed. The room was filled with boxes. Thank goodness that I'm moving. I don't have to see that bastard and his new girlfriend ever again. How could he say that I have an ugly heart when she was the one who did! Even if I did try to explain, he wouldn't believe me. A tear squeezes out, I angrily wipe it away. I loved him, but now... In anger I beat up my pillow. What was wrong with me? How come I didn't notice he was this kind of idiot! More tears begin to fall. I stop beating my pillow, exhausted. Burying my face in the pillow I let my tears fall. Those sweet words were all just a lie.
I sent it. I hug my knees staring at my laptop. Was it real? Was I really going to get a boyfriend? I hug myself tighter. What kind of boyfriend would I get? I shake my head. No, I wasn't getting a boyfriend I was going to choose one, that was what the explanation said. I blush slightly at the words. A love just like a drama. I like that. Then I remember the other rules. I wouldn't know when the game starts, but that was obvious, especially if hot guys were going to suddenly appear in my life. A foolish smile creeps its way up my face. I was going to get a boyfriend! I roll on my bed with delight, but then I stop. Was it okay for me to be this happy? Could I really trust "The Love Game" ? A crash startles me. I quickly stand up, rushing to the door, "Mom?" I open the door slightly, peering out. Draped across our dinghy couch Mom gulps down a bottle of beer. She notices me. "Well, if it isn't the brat." I want to hide, to shut the door until mom passed out, but I can't. I can't leave mom like this. "Hey brat, clean up that mess," she slurs. I stare down at shattered pieces of glass from a mirror mom probably threw. Leaving the shelter of my room I go to get the broom. As I'm sweeping up glass, mom glares at me. She suddenly stands up, "You, why do I have such an ugly daughter?" I don't reply, staring down at a piece of mirror. My reflection stares back. She's right; how could I be so happy? Even though the explanation for "The Love Game" said that the guy I choose would love me no matter how I looked, it was wrong. Mom roughly grabs me, "Hey brat, I'm talking to you!" No guy would love me, not when I looked like this.
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