never gonna get it right

she was never the prettiest girl in her class and when she raised her hand, foot shaking to the steady rhythm in her head, she was never called. he always called the blondes. the ones with the wild blue eyes and the sparkles hidden within babyface dimples. they looked glittery, where she only felt it inside, hidden away behind guts and chipped nail polish. she never looked how she felt.

now she was confused for someone beautiful. the girl with the blonde hair she's always wanted for her own. the tattoos on her wrists, she was always too scared to get. and for an hour everyday, she was her as she watched her across the room. the teacher calling out her name while staring at the other's eyes.

i'm that girl. i'm the she.
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sometimes i long to sit on the hoods of cars, still warm from driving, looking for constellations while drinking strawberry milkshakes. it's like the ends of WB dramas with good-looking girl A sitting with stud B on the park swings talking about where they will be in 10 years. i've gotten tired of that conversation, so instead it's sitting inside of subway cars making fun of advertisements and brushing legs and wanting to kiss your neck and waiting to see who cracks first.

and never thinking of a good ending.  
¶ 3:11 PM |