She's young. Gloriously young. Jailbait, if you will.
It's so fucking hot.
Why shouldn't I? I had nothing left, did I? I didn't have Nate. I didn't have my father. I barely had Eric. I had no one.
And that was all their loss. It's their fault they lost me. I'm stronger than they are; I always have been. So why care if Serena wants me dead, or if Nate despises me, or if my father wishes I'd never been born? Why care that I lost Eric to his psuedo-gay boyfriend?
I slept with Chuck Bass. It felt okay. It wasn't special. I thought your first time was supposed to be special, and it wasn't, but whatever.
I felt fine.
I felt so perfectly fine I could cry.
Here's the truth. Raw, uncut, actual truth.
She's still a little girl. Sometimes, it looks like she's much older, but she's still a child. She doesn't always act like it. But sometimes, she thinks it'd be nice if people treated her like a child. If her father would act like she was ever the infant he held in his arms.
She misses her mother. (But you can't tell a soul. Alison is too busy with her new life, her new husband, her new daughter, to even realize that Jenny exists.)
She's not perfect. She can't be. She tells the whole world she's perfect, but she still doesn't know who stares back at her in the mirror.
She's lonely. She screws it all up because she's Jenny Humphrey, and she doesn't know how to be.
The bus ride is long, and agonizingly so, but the seat is warm against her back. The sunlight falls through the window, and she feels a glow resonating off her skin. Her eyes open. She's just fine. She means it this time.
Her eyes are fully open. The world is beautiful.
"Where you getting off at?"
There's a boy next to her, young and innocent, just like she wants to be. He smiles at her and closes his book, sliding it gently into his backpack. He's... nice. She hasn't met anyone this nice before.
She smiles at him. Her face is washed free of makeup, and the world is brighter again; all she has to do is find the sun.
"Wherever I want to," she replies.
She's in control.
If you ever step foot in Manhattan again...
She closes her eyes.
Manhattan is too big for Jenny Humphrey.