I am the  pretty one,

the one the girls hate

and the boys pant for

and I stand aloof because

there is no room for me to be

who I am.

All I get is people reacting

to how I look

and I see them whisper

'She's so stuck up.'

I am not.

I am lonely and superior to them

that make these kinds of comments.

So all day I have to take the stares

and the mini-hatreds

just because I am pretty.
 

I like being pretty

it comes easy to me;

takes no effort.

My hair is beautiful and I don't have to do anything to it.

My skin is good. Thank God, no zits

My figure is good

but I get the comments when I walk through-

the Neanderthals always make comments-

and I cannot help it if my parents are rich.

So I am trapped behind this wall.

I don't have to study hard to get good grades;

this school is easy.

I don't have to work hard for anything.

Things just come to me.

But, it has made a prison for me

and because I don't have to get smart

or work hard-

I can get by on my looks,

my teachers like me-

one too much;

so in the end I am doing what I hate

others do-

seeing me only in terms of how I look-

and I realize I am doing the same thing to myself.
 

I am my looks.
I am trapped.

So when boys try to talk to me I clam up

because I think there is only one thing they want.

And most of the time I am right.

They do-just want

one thing.

Other's of them just want to say I am their girl friend

even if that is not true just so they can brag to their friends.

Some of them lie and claim they had you,
or you

are lesbian
just because you don't like them.

I am the pretty girl and most times that is pretty sad.

So I don't talk to anyone except other pretty girls.

They understand. They have the pretty girl thing too.

So we stand around sometimes and think we are superior

but we also think secretly we might be inferior and lonely too

and who is going to feel sorry for the pretty girl? Nobody that's who.

So I dated the football guy who was pretty too.
It seemed he would understand-handsome and pretty,
the same thing I thought.

Boy was I wrong. He was his mothers' boy
and only liked me

because he thought there was prestige in it.
And I did it for the same reason.

We both were boring when alone
and tried to look like the super couple
when people were around.

I was bored and truth be told I was also boring.

I had nothing to say
and all's he wanted to talk about was football

and sex.

I told him no.

And then he latched onto my best friend, well I called her my best friend, but 

we were not really friends. We just sorta hung out together.

My real best friend was Alma for a while.
She was the ugly sidekick

pretty girls seem to attract.
All she wanted to do was be with me.

She did everything I asked her to,
sometimes without me even asking.
I began to think that just maybe being pretty was being superior.
People like Alma

made it easy to think that.
She seemed to think I was superior.

I used to lie to her about all the boys coming on to me
and things they said and she believed those lies.

I felt I had to tell the stories
because the stories seemed to mean so much to her.
Besides telling her the phony stories
gave me a fantasy life to make up for my real one.

We were a good pair of friends for a while
until Alma told me one day about her love;
Her love for me.
And I realized she was not talking about friend love.

That's another thing,
you get come on's from both genders
and some like Alma turn into stalkers.

She lied and told her friend that we had been together.
A total lie.

That is why high school is prison camp for the pretty girl.

I broke down one day while talking to Geek Billy
who came over to my house to fix my computer.
He was rad-geek and shorter than me
and I never really considered him a real person or anything
so I was talking like he was not even there.
I was saying why me, why does everyone hate me?

He started yammering that he didn't hate me,
and put his arm around me.
I looked up and saw that he was not trying to jump my bones,
he really was trying to comfort me
like he understood and all that.
It was laughable you know.

I was so above him and everything
but he seemed that day like a real person to me
for just a tiny minute.

He left and I lay on my bed
and wrote into my diary-
'Geek boy loves me.'

I wrote: 'I am the pretty girl no one likes
because I am above them.'