The Girl I Used to Be

I used to be the girl who would stand up for the underdog. I used to be the girl who would say nothing behind someone’s back that I didn’t have the courage to say to their face. I used to be the girl who wouldn’t let anyone or anything intimidate me. I didn’t care what people thought of me. I didn’t need their approval. I used to be the girl that is now only a memory of who I used to be.

This girl was honest. She gave respect to those who earned it and took it away from those who didn’t. She didn’t need a label or a clique to define her place in the world, a world so small it would cease to exist in the following years. This girl knew who she was. I used to be the girl that I now only dream of becoming again.

I see a reflection. It isn’t mine. I choose to see what I like; I fail to see the truth, the ugliness that has grown like ivy. I take care to look my best. I put on a face. I hope the world tolerates me. I’m afraid to wonder how it’d feel if they didn’t.

I sit. I look around the room; I hear taunting whispers. It isn’t me. They like me. They like my face, the one I put on every morning before I walk into their world. The girl next to me forgot they required a face. Instead she speaks. I don’t see her face, I hear her voice. I don’t see her eyes, but I feel her truth. I know she speaks the truth.

They laugh. My lips don’t move. I wore a face, I tell myself. The laughing does not stop. She turns to face me. I see the girl I used to be. She stands and walks away. I do not stop her. I do not stop myself from becoming just another face.