If It Were Me

Who Am I To Think I'm Good Enough?

Grant heaved a frustrated moan. I mimicked him and plopped down beside him. Two hours and not one single guy had approached me. None. I knew I wasn’t the prettiest girl out there. I’ve accepted this fact, if not embraced it a long time ago, but this was just sad.

Seriously, what was wrong with me? Why wasn’t I good enough?

I gazed to the right of me, completely dejected. A group of girls were staring at none other than Grant, their mouths flapping at hushed speeds. I bet they’ve never felt ugly in their life. They’ve never had to deal with that whisper in their ear, the flaws that outshined who they were as people. A chuckle rumbled in the hazelnut-haired boy’s chest as one caught his eye and blushed. She grinned back subtly, her thoughts as clear as water.

My eyes fluttered over her face like butter fly wings or microscopic bacteria. I wanted to find something, anything to prove that she was nothing special, that she was no different. I wanted to find my confidence in a stranger’s face. But she was perfect, almost alien in her beauty. Wide set eyes that were tall fields of grass with her paper nose, and the constellations on her cheeks. This girl was the walking planet earth and I was… me. Just ordinary me.

Another sigh, another giggle. Ugh. Just… ugh. Strike me with lightning and make me blind.

I jumped to my feet, unable to stomach the bubbly persona she had taken form of.

“Grant let’s go somewhere else.” He ignored me. “Grant, let’s go.”

“If you don’t want to be here, walk home then,” he barked sharply. Something formed inside of me. It grew and began the road map of veins, a scathing path of heat towards my chest. A knot formed in the center of my gut, the rush of anger shimmering over my skin. I narrowed my brown eyes.

“I’m only trying to keep us on track, Grant,” I said quietly. I wasn’t going to be loud now- we were in public.

“Go get something to drink or whatever,” Grant called absent-mindedly. Ah, there he was; the Grant that I had thought I lost. I watched him go as his crown of hazel hair bobbed and weaved through the masses towards the girls. Whatever, I hope they’re underage.

My gaze swept over the perimeter and all I could see were couples.  There were couples looking at t-shirts, taking funny pictures together. There were couples that were sharing the same Orange Julius. There were couples everywhere- in the Foot Locker, in the food court, in the reflection of every glass surface. However, most importantly, there were couples just being in love.

Here was the hole in my life, the ratty quilt on the corner of my existence right infront of me. I had never really known what the expression of “being alone in a crowded room” meant. But it was easy to understand now, wasn’t it? I understood the whole time, but never quite wanted to admit it. God has quite the sense of humor.

Because I’m the puzzle piece you can’t find. I have a peeling cover, a torn corner that will never be fixed. Poor me. Poor puzzle. I began to walk mindlessly in a direction, any direction. Because that’s what lost things do. We wonder until we are found.

Second best Seaver. What an awesome nickname. I kept walking, even when a group of boys walked by that I didn’t recognize. I made eye contact with one of them- blue eyes, black hair- and attempted a smile, a smile that I hoped said “Hi, I’m not who you think I am, but you’ll love me once you get to know.” But no such message came across. In fact, he rolled his eyes, laughing as he walked away.

My faux grin slipped away. “Get over yourself. I was just being friendly,” I said, but I knew they were empty words.

Time itself seemed to fade into the chattering chaos of the mall, thousands of footsteps echoing against the marble. Lighters by Bruno Mars resonated on all sides; I could distinctly hear children screaming on the miniature playground a floor below.