la vida es como la espuma, por eso hay que darse como el mar.


when i was 13, i returned from my school trip to germany never feeling worse. i was rejected. i wasn't pretty enough for the guy i had liked, i wasn't funny enough to fit in with any group. i, who never cries in front of anyone, sobbed next to my roommate. i felt a stonging insecurity that pervaded every inch of my body.

a week after i got back, i went to see my best friend. we had seen eachother somewhat frequently before i left, and even then i had felt something had shifted between us - just like all people growing, changing. it hadn't shown itself, though, and perhaps we had forced ourselves to ignore it.

we had nothing to say to each other. although we sat a couple feet apart, a great sea had grown between us, and it lapped sorrowfully inside ourselves. we were both polite, vaguely talkative, but it was bathed in an awkward coldness. suddenly it had all fallen apart. we were like puzzle pieces that suddenly didn't fit any more.

at that moment, i realized our friendship was over. it was one of theose few moments in each of our lives, i think, when we can fully understand and grasp the ending of something beautiful. usually we pull together and label the threads that intertwine and make up our lives long after they occur, identifying where they begin, end, and fray, but at that moment i saw at that single moment that it would be the end. i wonder if she felt it too, the impenetrable wall that had somehow sprung up between us.

i remember walking home in the rain, and i felt like the world was weeping with me. usually i love the rain: it has a cathartic quality, as if the whole world is letting go.

even though our houses were only two apart, i arrived home soaked and utterly empty. i went to bed and all i did was cry, i couldn't do anything but cry. i wouldn't get out of bed for days. all i felt was an unbearable emptiness. it seared my bones.


today was the first day that has reminded me of that in a long time. and not simply because it rained; old wounds were opened.

throughout my life, i've struggled. i've never been pretty enough, and even in the rare case that someone thinks i'm attractive, i'm not funny or entertaining enough. even for my mom, i've never been pretty or thin or intelligent enough. i have millions and millions of flaws and just as many regrets, but for once i wish someone would tell me i am beautiful and genuinely mean it.

i'm a jealous person. not really in the spiteful way - i would never sabotage or hurt someone i was jealous of - but i am. i look at my friends and i wish i could be as pretty as them, that i was somehow like them.

for once, i want to be beautiful. i want someone to want me. i want some one to love me despite all my flaws. i know everyone wants that. but i'm worried i'll never find it.