Sometimes I think Iâd like to be a mermaid.
âYouâve grown into such a pretty young lady!â Says a distant relative, who smells weird and insists on a hug and has oddly cold hands, who doesnât ask me a thing except for if Iâve met any cute young boys.
âYou are a beautiful young woman,â says my father, to apologize for calling me stupid, useless, ignorant, damaged, unwanted.
âOh, look at those big beautiful eyes! What can I do for you, sweetheart?â Says the creepy old man at the cash register who smells like beer and cigarettes and calls me âbrown eyesâ every time he sees me but never asks for my name.
âHey there, beautiful,â says the drunk guy on my bus, who spends ten minutes trying to get my number and asks for a kiss, even though heâs easily my fatherâs age and Iâve already said ânoâ.
âYouâre gorgeous, duhâ says my mom, when I tell her that a boy at school has been stalking me between classes for weeks, telling me horrible secrets, and Iâm concerned he might have a crush on me.
âThereâs my beautiful girl!â Says an old man at my work, who recognized me by my face but knows nothing else about me.
âI knew I recognized those pretty eyes of yours,â says a man Iâve been avoiding, who knows me from work and thought itâd be fine to catch me on the street and walk home with me.
âYouâre really cute!â Shouts a guy out the side window of a passing car.
âYouâre hot as hell,â says a friend Iâve confided in, someone Iâve told about my fear that Iâll never be happy, never fall in love, never be satisfied; that nobody really knows me and I donât really know anybody else, that I was born alone and Iâll die the same because I have no idea who I am or what I want.
Sometimes, but not always, I think Iâd like to be a mermaid.
Every so often, I think it would be satisfying to drown someone who tells me Iâm beautiful.
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