My final year was...interesting, to say the least. There was only one thing i had decided this year. There would be no more pretences. I had no time for that. There were no lies. I had no patience. There was only the stark, cold truth that left a bitter taste in their mouth – and they hated me for pointing it out.
 
Six years of mine had been squandered in this god forsaken place. And in those six years, I had risen from nothing...to everything.
 
I ruled the land.
 
And I should have been satisfied. But i wasn’t.

Popularity was fickle, that much was true. Six years and I still got stabbed. That wasn't the bit i had a problem with, after all, it was the way I'd made my own ascent.

If I told my story, regaled you with my woes, you would understand. If I had cried, if I showed some sort of regret, they would have taken me back. But, that would have been lying, been playing his game and I was sick of it.

A year ago, he loved me. or well, he said he did. But all men lie, we know that. And now, older and wiser and a tad more wrinkled, I'm wiser, I'm stronger, I'm still beautiful, and I knew it. For that, they shunned me. 

I had been told by many that inner beauty far outweighed outer beauty, but I had long ago deduced that like me, they were liars themselves.
 
So, at least we had something in common.

I was over this charade, this never ending feast of backstabbing and petty rules. I tuned my back on everything I ever knew, everything I'd worked so hard for, bled for.

For I was Queen Bee, fallen, but not beheaded. 

More. I needed more. I needed more than they had to offer. We were going to leave soon, make our mark upon the world, and this was all i had to offer? It wasn't enough. There had to be more to life, more to live for. My decision had been made. I would rise from the ashes, like a phoenix from the flames, stripped of my prom queen crown and make up, and I would just be me.

The thought was terrifying.