Now the mask was gone. She looked young and pretty…
As we walked we made plans…. We were ourselves again—
restless, scheming, poised for flight.

–TOBIAS WOLFF, This Boy's Life

–
INNER CITY STORIES

The voices alI around me

The names I was called

The laughs and the giggles

Oh, how I heard it all

 

The parade of spit balls

The tripping and spitting

With me constantly wondering

What did I do so wrong?

 

What if I was simply pretty?

I wondered how that would change things

I was too hard on myself

I saw myself dying

But the worst part was

I didn't want any comforting

 

The nights of panic attacks

The nights of terror

Crying out to God

To make me feel better

 

Nothing was happening

I soon gave up trying

Till one night

When I finally stopped crying

 

The pain was so sharp

I just couldn't take it

Maybe I’d take a razor

And transform into a canvas

Covered with red paint

 

Soon realizing I just couldn't stop

I fell into a great darkness

Where my all sorrows had dropped

Bouncing off the walls constantly

Calling to me, haunting me

 

No one even noticed

I was just a happy young girl

Anxious to please

Willing to do anything

 

Little did they know

How badly I wanted to be pretty