𝐒𝐢𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐄𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐨𝐧 was raised from the ground up knowing nothing but comparison and perfection.
She compared herself to her successful parents, supermodel sister, and glamorous friends. Instead of love, she harbored a raging jealousy for nea...
This is a LONG ass chapter, but one of my favorites of maybe all time that I've ever written. Get comfortable, it's 7.5k words 😭 + pls look at the aesthetic for the chapter I added up top!
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
S i m o n e
✢
--------------------------
Growing up, I loved getting catcalled.
It was the only time anyone EVER announced my beauty.
It was rewarding, it made me feel like the restriction paid off. I was finally being noticed, and by who didn't matter because it was something. Anything.
I'd get giddy when someone hit on me because of how rarely it happened.
I was so deprived of any show of affection that creeps yelling at me from across the street or lurking a few steps behind made me delighted.
It's one of my deepest secrets, no one knows this.
Who could I tell? My friends, who were constantly surrounded by boys and girls, waiting their turn in line for a chance to hook up, fuck, or date?
They wouldn't understand. They were so bathed in love and lust that to them, getting catcalled was a regular occurrence and disgusting inconvenience.
It is a regular occurrence and a disgusting inconvenience for essentially ALL girls.
But to some, it happens more than others.
And it never happened to me.
So instead of being thankful, I hated myself so intensely that when it would happen it was like a million dollar present on Christmas day.
But honestly, how do you explain to someone that the sexual harassment made you feel good, despite how uncomfortable you'd get after it? In the moment, it was good.
Then I'd see who said it and I'd be scared and creeped out, but that was always after.
I didn't think I'd ever appreciate it happening to me again. Still, I almost smiled, standing on the doorstep of my new brownstone as the 30-40ish-year-old looking man jogged on by, giving me a crooked smile that looked to be in dire need of dentures, appearing disheveled and sweaty, the furthest thing from sexy.
It took 1 day for Father to place the deposit on the house and sign some papers I ignored.
It took 3 days to wait while the house was deep cleaned by maids and to get confirmation it was ready to move in.
It took 3 days to move everything into the house.
And another 7 days to get some furniture, enough to declare it a functioning home. Now that didn't stop me from shopping for house decor and furniture like there was no tomorrow, there was just enough now for me to not be sleeping on a mattress on the floor
