I was traveling in the subway today with my sister on our way to a tattoo parlor. We’re getting the same tat, but not becase we’re sisters, and certainly not because we’re similar. It just sits well with both of us and feels right. The lettering is going to be different, but anyway I’m getting sidetracked.
The point is the following. My sister is tall and thin and she dyed her hair a firy red that sits well with her fiery personality. She has long legs and wears long jeans and bold black-leather, wood-sole boots. She has enough character to make a tornado fall back and whimper.
Honestly I felt like the comical side-kick. I was wearing jeans and velcro-chucks and a blue coat, and my hair is brown and straight (but not straight enough to be cool, mind). I think I kind of understand how Robin felt next to Batman. Also, this is the reason I almost always feel uncomfortable going anywhere with my sister, who I admire.
But I’m not in the mood for pity party. I’m just annoyed. I’m annoyed I’m always looking around and trying to figure out what’s wrong with me that’s nto wrong with anyone else. To my left my sister reads her huge-ass Arturo Perez Reverte book, ‘The Siege’. To my right this anonymous girl has the most amazing long blonde hair and coolest coat. And she’s so pretty.
I’m so sick of always wishin I was someone else. I live in daydreams and navigate the present thinking of what the future could be if only I was like this. I wish I was taller, thinner, prettier, wittier, that i had more spine and wasn’t asthmatic, that I didn’t jave to wear glasses so my eyes didn’t look rat-like small. And the glasses are cute–I like them. But that’s not the point.
I love it when you tell this to someone and they tell you, so change. So, fuck you. It’s not a bloody switch, wanker (wanker, I love that curse word so much). I can’t pull down a string and *pop* I’m cool. I’m shy and distrustful and I spend more time in my head or in books than anyone righfully should. Most of the time I feel OK about msyelf, with occasional patches of ‘oh, ok, I look pretty right now’ but mostly long stretches of ‘I need to stop eating… forever’.
And here’s my sister, with her fiery everything, and here I am with my brown hair and my brown eyes and my chucks.
Don’t you guys ever get tired of wishing?