Tag Archives: growing up

She Could Be Mine

 

Sophie and I walked on a narrow path illuminated by the faint light of a street lamp. The streets leading to her place was nearly empty. Rattles from the garbage bins disrupted the silence every now and then. We just came from a group date with some friends; I had the courage to volunteer into walking her home.

“So, did you like the movie?” I asked.

“Twas cool ‘cause I was watching it with you and the gang.”

..because I was watching it with you. That was all I heard.

When we were a few paces away from her building, Sophie stopped. She picked something inside a pile of trash and whistled. In a matter of minutes, stray cats emerged from all corners and filled the alley we were in. Their number almost terrified me.

“Scared?” she teased me.

I just smiled at her and hurried towards the open street that leads to her apartment door. As expected, she didn’t run after me but stayed with the pact instead. From where I’m at, I could see her silhouette scattering the trash. Then I heard another whistle, then a laugh, a giggle, then a ‘good boy’ here and there. This girl always surprises me.

“Run! Here comes the Cat Lady!” I shouted as if afraid when she walked to me.

“Oh, shut up!” she said followed by a punch in the arm. Man, I had to pretend it didn’t hurt!

And she sat on the bottom of the stairs beside me and rested her elbows on her knees. She’s thinking about something. I thought of a joke to break the dead air between us but she suddenly uttered something I didn’t know she cared much about.

“Do you think someone has the capability of liking me? I mean seriously, honestly and sincerely fall in love with me. With someone like me?” The last phrase was almost a whisper.

I thought the question was insane! Sophie is the most attractive girl I know – shirt, jeans, tattoos, chucks, bob cut, red hair and all. She has the most beautiful eyes that shine when she’s happy. She walks gracefully and smiles shyly. Her stories are the most amazing and her humour is right on. She has this positive aura that makes you want to be near her. Some say she’s rebellious when she’s just being independent. They assume she’s dumb when in fact she can name 80 famous rock bands, 20 banned books and the nearest McDonald’s in your area. I looked at her and  saw a terrific, lovely girl.

I may have been staring at her for a long time because the next thing I knew was her raised eyebrows and folded arms on my face. Oh yeah, I have to answer the question.

“Learn how to knit and bake because with a personality like yours, you’ll probably marry at 60!”

Sophie stood and kicked me on the side. The usual thing she does.

“I hate you”, she said in a somehow sweet tone. We laughed!

Damn, I’m falling in love with her.

Beautiful Like Me

I always thought I was beautiful. Growing up, I don’t remember a single person telling me otherwise. Nobody made fun of my appearance. I wasn’t picked on because I was ugly. Seriously speaking, I don’t think I am. Maybe nobody cared to notice that I look awful, but no one really said anything wrong about me. Physically at least.

Sure, I was never the first choice when it comes to beauty contests. Scrap that! I wasn’t even an option. Boys seemed to be appalled by my mere presence. Girls just didn’t bother. I don’t like make-up; I don’t wear skimpy, sexy clothes; I’m not charming; I’m not exceptionally intelligent. I do not stand out.

I’m not the prettiest but I believe I am beautiful.

Is it weird that I feel like this? Can you call it over confidence? Maybe fantasizing? Hallucinating? And is it unlikely for a teenage girl to love herself and not be insecure?

Should I run to a psychologist just because I’m not relating to what kids my age are going through? I don’t  think so.

Don’t get me wrong, other girls are attractive too. They really are! They’re gorgeous! I don’t think of myself highly than anyone else. Because really, I’m not.

I just like me more.

I think my hair falls perfectly unruly; my eyebrows are beautifully thick; my smile exposes my unique dentures; my lips are wonderfully colourless. I like love that about me.

You see,  I’m not beautiful like you. I’m beautiful like me.

I hope that’s OK.

You before Me

Question: If you knew what I knew, would you stop acting the way you do?

The strap of your backpack hugs your low shoulder with your school uniform hanging loose from your body. I never see you carry yourself proud when you pass the hallway.

Here comes the ‘it’ girls making fun of you. Their eyes check every inch of you with their menacing stares. Ignore them. One of these days you’ll see those babes carelessly laughing in the sidewalk, contented with what little they have. By then, they’ll have nothing but your pity.

The doom chair on the corner of the room is calling you  and off towards it you go. Few minutes are spent looking at all the pretty girls and the boys that flirt around them. Unconsciously, your fingers run through the loose hair strands covering your face. Forgive me but you’re so cute when you’re trying to fight over your insecurities!

Let me tell you something: six, seven years from now, you’re going to turn into a fine lady nothing short of captivating charm  and beauty. Someday you’re going to know and feel your worth. Believe me when I say these silly boys who ignore you would look like pigs when they throw themselves at your feet – crawling, begging for your attention. When that happens, remember to roll your eyes at them and smile.

Then you force yourself to get in to some cliques; I can see you doing silly things just to fit in. I tell you that those ‘ friends’ were up to no good but you won’t listen. I try my best to warn you about that boy who will eventually break your teenage heart but you are so hard-headed.

Stop crying.

If I confess that in the years to come the world will give you great friends that are willing to die for you, would you believe me? You’ll have them and they’re going to accept your uniqueness. They’ll laugh at your silly love problems and cry at your corny jokes. They’ll call you weird (you’ll punch them) but love that about you. If I say I’ve met them already, would you believe me? You have to!

You can’t see me but I’m here. I’m close enough to notice the tears that roll down your cheeks yet far enough to watch your wobbly stride as you walk home alone.

I really want to hold your hand and tell you that everything will make sense soon. I want to comfort you by the fact that this is  just a stage of your life. This is just a drill for the big day when you finally soar. Everything that’s happening right now will just be a fun and learning story you’ll look back to.

Personally, I thank you for messing up and for being insecure and for not being perfect. Otherwise I wouldn’t be what you made me to be. So hey, little darling of my past, cheer up!