Wallflower Vs Homecoming Queen
I have been thinking of a woman I do not know.
A woman who I have imagined more times than I would like to admit.
A woman who is all the things I can never be; young, beautiful, trusting, ready, alive.
A woman who has what I so desperately wanted.
A woman I want to protect.
I think of her now the way the wall flower thinks of the homecoming queen with envy and awe. Despising her, but desperately wanting to be her. Still, I want to protect her.
I have created her in my mind, ready to haunt me whenever the need comes through. Whenever I need the reminder of what shortcomings keep me walled in. She is petite, cute, caramel colored skin that is golden in sunlight, not pasty and reflective in sunlight. I imagine her hair full, luscious, nearly black with brown highlights that make her seem unearthly, not dull thinning hair that has the luster of a sandbox. I imagine her tender, kind, unassuming, and unaware of her beauty not loud, bulldozing, and only aware of her lack of beauty. I imagine her laughing and at ease not solemn and fidgety. And still I want to protect her.
It makes no sense, then all the sense in the world. I want her to stay lovable. I want to know that someone benefited through my pain.