The It Girl
"You know... yeah. She's the It girl."
I am always in her shadow.
She will always be something more than I will be; she has achieved that perfect height of being adored.
I am in the room with him at my side, sitting near me, wanting to be near me... I make him laugh, and say things that seem right until she whirls in. Her essence takes over the place; I feel immediately oppressed, guarded, inhibited. My insides shrink away from the framework of my bones, leaving a space inside my skin that she slips into... puppeting me, making me choose my words so carefully, knowing that if I offend her, they will all recoil from me and go to her side, whisper-gossip.
I don't hate her; quite the contrary. We are friends, but not close friends. I try valiantly to like her as they do, to find something to adore inside her, and of course there are things to find. She is truly a splendid person, talented and with an excellent sense of humour.
I cease to exist. My body is glass; my words are like cricketsong in the midst of a windstorm. His answers become short and choppy, almost annoyed... he wishes he were across the room with her instead of stuck by societal courtesy to me.
Instead of being strong, I simply excuse myself. Avoiding conflict, always.
I want to be her... I want to take her in and observe her, discover what she's done that is so different from what I've done... how did she manage to draw these people inside her, into her life, to make them love her that way?
I look at the people who surround me, and suddenly, I feel alone. Did I miss something along the way? Have I not been a good friend or a good person, have I not made enough of an impression to have one person who would step forward and speak on my behalf? Not to make me feel better, not to turn aside my hurt and anger, but because they truly and honestly believe what they say. One person who would kneel down beside me and curl their fingers around my arm, telling me that I'm their It Girl, no matter what anyone says, and that somebody would be lucky to be like me.
I should know it for myself... but I don't.
I am always in her shadow.
She will always be something more than I will be; she has achieved that perfect height of being adored.
I am in the room with him at my side, sitting near me, wanting to be near me... I make him laugh, and say things that seem right until she whirls in. Her essence takes over the place; I feel immediately oppressed, guarded, inhibited. My insides shrink away from the framework of my bones, leaving a space inside my skin that she slips into... puppeting me, making me choose my words so carefully, knowing that if I offend her, they will all recoil from me and go to her side, whisper-gossip.
I don't hate her; quite the contrary. We are friends, but not close friends. I try valiantly to like her as they do, to find something to adore inside her, and of course there are things to find. She is truly a splendid person, talented and with an excellent sense of humour.
I cease to exist. My body is glass; my words are like cricketsong in the midst of a windstorm. His answers become short and choppy, almost annoyed... he wishes he were across the room with her instead of stuck by societal courtesy to me.
Instead of being strong, I simply excuse myself. Avoiding conflict, always.
I want to be her... I want to take her in and observe her, discover what she's done that is so different from what I've done... how did she manage to draw these people inside her, into her life, to make them love her that way?
I look at the people who surround me, and suddenly, I feel alone. Did I miss something along the way? Have I not been a good friend or a good person, have I not made enough of an impression to have one person who would step forward and speak on my behalf? Not to make me feel better, not to turn aside my hurt and anger, but because they truly and honestly believe what they say. One person who would kneel down beside me and curl their fingers around my arm, telling me that I'm their It Girl, no matter what anyone says, and that somebody would be lucky to be like me.
I should know it for myself... but I don't.
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