Moore

Love is...[break][break]

Difficult.[break][break]

Ella was given birth to by a very stereotypical white family within Australia: white man, white woman, only child Ella. She lived her toddler years seeking pleasure from materialistic possessions, following her natural desire to explore the three-storey house with a little too many vases to break, and seeking affection from either parent. Life was perfect for Ella, or as she'd say- "goo goo gaa gaa."[break][break]

But this isn't a happy story. When something can go bad, it will go bad. But first, it's important to understand that Ella owned a lot of humanoid objects. As a female, she took after her mother and learnt to clumsily mimic her motherly behaviour onto the several dolls she owned, changing clothes, feeding them milk (and making a mess of grey carpet in her bedroom), brushing their hair, etc. Ella was raised learning that caring for something or someone was immensely pleasurable and therefore was set as her "Top Value" amongst other priorities.[break][break]

Fast forward to school. Kindergaten was a breeze, everyone merely followed what they liked to do and Ella was so typical that there was little to call her out for within the classroom of twenty or so other children.[break][break]

But then we get to early puberty.[break][break]

Love to Ella was acting affectionately to someone and entertwining her life with theirs, making their problem hers and the vice versa. Love to Ella was being able to seek pleasure by being kissed back, sharing jokes, sitting together, being all lovey dovey without any repercussions.[break][break]

So naturally, she got dumped.[break][break]

Ella could still vividly remember at the age of twelve where she got a bright-red hand mark on her cheek as what could only be litres of pepsi, fanta, monster, and school-cafeteria OJ drenched her body and stung her eyes worse than her pollen allergy. Why did she get dumped?[break][break]

Too clingy, too needy. There is pleasure and then there are principles, people will not steal from their parents to keep them happy and because their good acts may be rewarded in the future, same here. Ella could've balanced her need to feel loved with her boyfriend's free time, but she didn't. You could say that it wasn't love, but rather Ella was using him as a means to her own selfish end.[break][break]


But this is confusing to her. Caring for people was good, affection was good, loving someone was good. Ella stood there in tears as her mind scrambled to understand why she was being punished for something that was good.[break][break]

This is the part that defines her older character. There were two explanations to this situation in her head:[break][break]

She was trash.[break][break]

The man was trash. And if the man was trash, everyone else involved was trash, but it's so much easier to generalise everyone under something they were not involved in.[break][break]

So, men were trash.[break][break]

[break][break]

Sixteen years old.

Ok, men are trash. Ella went on with her life with a sour attitude towards love, opinion corrupted by her previous experience of love. How to cope? Don't chase for love. A rather easy solution to an otherwise impossible dilemma, allowing ber to focus on herself and carry on with life with ease.[break][break]

Too easy? I know.[break][break]

Love came to her: A black-haired, tanned, muscular frame seen through his casual attire of blue ripped jeans and long-sleeved red shirt, with what she could only describe as a "strong" face that made seeing him all the more blush-enducing. Ella was not necessarily skinny, carrying some muscle that isn't just a widened hip and more weight on her chest- the middleground to skinny and fat, if you will. She had a small nose, thin lips, no makeup, and was wearing similar clothing to him.[break][break]

It felt a little too good to be true.[break]

Regardless of which, they talked, they hung out, she shared her previous love experience. While at first weary, it wss difficult for her to remain so tense around him. He wasn't quiet, but he was a good listener, he shared music tastes and was often her motivator to do things individually.[break][break]

See the repetition in this? Someone comes along, she likes them, she hangs out. She then finds out this recent love interest was part of a gang.[break][break]

Rich people hang out with rich people for a reason: they hope the latter's personality rubs onto them so they become more successful. This is the same when looking at bad people. A good person will adopt a bad person's snarky remarks the more they stay with them, turning them into rotten apple #2. Point in case here? She turned rotten too.[break][break]

Arguments, taking copious amounts of drugs, toxic romace, turning foul. Ella's belief of having to care for others corrupted, now believing that caring for others meant being shit to them because it was funny, pulling pranks because it's just a joke, and pressuring them to do things because her approval was important. It wasn't that she turned bad just to turn bad, she fully believed she was being nice.[break][break]

Until well, she realised she was not so nice. A simple message over the phone and Ella felt relieved to be out of the drama of it all. No more drugs, no more petty arguments, no more toxicity.[break][break]

But just like how love found her, that same love turned sour. This is her most vivid recollection of memories, her endless fuel to live, her reason for doing what she did.[break][break]

The crowbar hit the side of Ella's head, knockint her to the floor. Looking up, it was him. Not just him, though, perhaps a total of thirteen people were beside him- snickering, muttering, holding gasoline and soda. Why? Again? Oh, he didn't like that she left without a good reason. That, and she could've snitched about the gang.[break][break]

Well that's kind of dumb.[break][break]

And while young Ella would've balled up and cried, this toxic Ella bared her teeth and struggled up with nails digging into her palms. Anger, as many say, was an incredible motivator to do things. The thing was, she had no way to release that anger when she was pushed back down and began being kicked by the thirteen or so people swarming her. Her ribs hurt, her hip hurt, her shoulders and arms hurt, her legs hurt, and her brain felt hotter than a blue flame. It angered her more, especially as she saw a couple of phones being held overhead to record her.[break][break]

Yes, she was left unconscious on the street a couple of meters away from school. This was to her favour as a few hundred people pr so could've seen her laying on the floor bleeding and called for the ambulances. She sat there, in her bed, a permanent glare that leaked a violent-black hatred to any that met her eyes, using her good finger to scroll through mountains of Twitter posts.[break][break]

Ah, her ex recorded their time together.[break][break]

Ah, they posted the recordings of the drugs, even including the part where she barely stands straight.[break][break]

Ah, they posted the video of her being beaten up.[break][break]

Ah, her address was leaked.[break][break]

"Fuck this world."