I like to think I am this person that everyone gets along with, but in reality, I'm just another
person. There is nothing terribly special about me. Maybe to someone there is. I hope so. Here's
a piece of me. I'm timorous when it comes to how my peers look at me. When I see a gorgeous girl
strutting down the hallway, I feel like I'll never be as pretty as her. I'll never be good
enough. I'll never be the ostentatious, confident, popular girl. I would kill to be her. Sometimes
I can't even look at myself in the mirror. It's this ongoing competition with the other girls
and me. I want it to end, but it never does. In the utopia I imagine, I'm this naturally beautiful
woman, one who all the guys chase after, like some kind of goddess. Guys chase me, but for the wrong
reasons. They pursue me to complete their mission and to break me of my innocent ways, only to find
I am not who they think I am. Then I'm dropped. I wish I was the girl who could please any guy,
instead of being the one who drives them crazy. It's not my intention to do so. I just love
spending time with someone, but my time is truncated. I'm an anathema. Nobody wants me.
Somebody's got to want me. I have thousands of hopes, desires, and wishes. The negativity I feel
towards myself often shows on a daily basis, but I try to front. I pretend to be flamboyant,
hysterical, and jaunty, but inside, I feel lifeless, gloomy, and fractious. But despite how annoyed
with myself I usually am, I'm okay. I anticipate the future, and I have strong faith that I will
become the person I've always wanted to be. And there's a piece of me.