I'mNotTryingtoBeaNuisance.IJustThinkWeCanDoBetterThis

Yes, we can do soooooooo much better than this....better than wattpad, that is.  (Only good Reuben song ever, and I'm convinced it's only good because of Matt Theissen.)

Welcome to step one of our four step plan that will cure you of any desire to venture into Wattpad!! 

The first step to making a wattpad-worthy story is to decide on a protagonist. 

He or she must have an extremely rare first name and an exotic last name.  

Here is our character.

Arianna Chanley.

See??  Arianna isn’t all that uncommon, but it’s a wattpad-worthy name.   (A/n—To all you Arianna’s, it’s a very pretty name. I’m sorry I had to include it.  Truly, truly sorry.)  Chanley comes up only about 500 times in the US. 

Secondly, we will come up with an entirely absurd and amateur title. 

Another technique I am using is called plagiarism.  Heard of it?? Very popular on wattpad.  People often name a song as being their character’s work rather than that of it’s actual creator.  I am using the song “Curl Up and Die” by Relient K. 

Now, the real work begins.  I have to write as though I am without a brain.  Great….

I Was So Friggin’ Ugly, But Now I’m So Sexii No One Can Resist Me??  How Did That Happen?? 

Chapter One

Why does life have to be so terrible? 

That’s the question I ask every frickin’ day. 

My life is the worst of any I have ever heard of.  You know all those starving people without any medical treatment and very little income or housing?  They wouldn’t last a day in my life.  That’s how horrible it is. 

Today, I went to school as always, feeling like I was the ugliest person ever to walk the earth.  My mom won’t let me use a straightener so my hair is always wavy, which is so ugly, despite its natural and dark reddish brown color.  I can’t wear makeup either, which just makes me so ugly. 

I got out of my mom’s car, wishing that my dad could still be alive.  He would’ve seen how hideous I was and made my mom let me straighten my hair and use makeup. 

As soon as I got out, a couple of popular girls started laughing at me. 

I go to a really small school, and everybody knows everybody, except me.  Nobody knows me, except as the nerd.  The Nerd.  The only one, because everybody else is so beautiful and popular, and they all hate me. 

Just as I started walking towards the school, my backpack split open, and all my books fell out. 

Three cheerleaders, Lisa, Hailey, and Jasmine started laughing at me. 

“Look at all her books!” Jasmine giggled, referring to the textbooks from the fourteen classes I was taking. 

Lisa said, “Who does she think she is?  Einstein?” 

They stepped on my books with their stilettos, something else my mom won’t let me wear.  She wouldn’t have let me wear their miniskirts or tank tops.  She definitely wouldn’t have let me tan like they did. 

I gathered all my books and walked to my first class.  I froze when I caught sight of the blackboard, which read “The Nerd Is U-G-L-Y.” 

I knew that handwriting.  It was that of my longtime crush, Jacob Dark.  He was the most amazing football quarterback our school had every had.  He had tan skin, deep blue eyes, and dark black hair.  He was so muscular and I wanted nothing more than for him to hold me in his arms and tell me I was beautiful. 

I ran out of the room crying loudly, dashing down the hall quickly.  Not quickly enough, however to escape hearing the roaring laughter of my classmates. 

I sat and cried in the bathroom the whole day.  I usually just cry in the bathroom during lunch, which I skip to stay skinnier, but today I needed to cry because nobody cares about me, and everybody hates me. 

My mom picked me up from school that afternoon.  We sat in silence because we don’t ever talk.  I didn’t try to maintain any sort of relationship with her, blamed everything about my life on her, and had successfully ignored almost everything she’d said over the past three years, but I still thought the fact that we never talked was her fault. 

Why wouldn’t it be?  I’m a victim of all of this, anyways. 

I’m a victim of my dad’s death, but my mom isn’t.  He died tragically in a rollercoaster accident when I was five, and his death didn’t hit her like it hit me.  She was jealous because he and I always had a closer relationship. 

I ran up to my room and cried while I did my homework.  The drops of moisture on my perfectly done pages never bothered my teachers because they hated me almost as much as my peers did. 

I softly sang a song I had written, so as to not disturb my mother while she slaved over a meal for me to eat, that I would probably just throw away because I’m too fat. 

This is a song I call “Curl Up and Die.”  I wrote it, rather than it being the product of a band that I was not at all cool or open-minded enough to listen to. 

I don't like the steps I took
To get to look
Into your deepest feelings

I don't like the place I'm in
Headspace within the hardwood and the ceiling

Cause if I'm restless
Then why do I
I want nothing but to rest my soul
And I don't get this and I know why
You see sometimes things are just beyond control

But I don't mind
But I'm not surprised to find that you do
I'm not surprised to find that you do
I know you do

And I feel fine
But I know the same does not apply to you
I know the same does not apply to you
So I guess that I'll curl up and die, too.

Clinging to the remnants of perfection
Like most do after they break it
Not knowing which directions the correct one
Do I discard or remake it
Cause if I don't know then I don't know
But I may know someone that knows me more than I
And if I somehow could rest this soul
Maybe control could find its way back to my life

But I don't mind
You see I know that I have done all this to you
 
Yeah I'll curl up with you
Until I die with you
Yeah I'll curl up with you yeah my baby, yeah my darlin'
Until I die with you...

My voice broke as I finished the song, and I began crying.

Who am I?

I am Arianna Chanley, possessor of the worst life ever. 

Thirsting for more of our overly insecure, possibly anorexic, and generally unpleasant protagonist?? Yeah, me neither.  

Oh, stop complaining.  I actually have to write from her POV.  Get over it.

Hasta la Bye Bye from CatCooper<3