I wrote this poem (or prose) the other day when I felt extra self-conscious. In classes, the gym, around campus, I always see other girls who seem to have everything together at all times. I’m sure we all know the type.
Well, lately, between being editor of Her Campus Rowan and balancing five classes, an internship, and my friends/family/boyfriend/OCD/physical health, I feel like a complete mess. Sure, I may be working toward a bright future, but it doesn’t feel like it. I feel as though I’m spending hours on articles yet barely making deadlines. I’m spending over an hour at the gym at least four days a week but seeing no progress. I’m overcoming one irrational thought, but replacing it with yet another. I swear, some days I’m lucky to even make it to class.
But among the chaos, I was able to channel my creative side and reflect through poetry. Writing is the only thing that keeps me sane, I swear…
“That Girl”
“I’ve always wanted to be that girl—the one who strolls into class early, sits down quietly and opens her planner, her perfectly maroon-painted nails brushing the pages as she checks off her lists of accomplishments for the day. The one who’s always dressed in form-fitting jeans and flattering tops because everything looks so lavish on her. The one whose gym membership never goes to waste because somehow she finds time in her busy schedule to take spin class five times a week, and has enough money to be decked in Nike gear but enough modesty not to take selfies in the mirror or admire her own legs as she passes a window. The one who’s up on all the new trends and always has something to say, always listens and responds to professors, always completes assignments well before the due date, yet manages to grab dinner with her friends and share a soda at the movies with her boyfriend.
I’m not that girl—I’m the one who scurries into class five minutes late, coffee in her right hand and a stain on her oversized sweatshirt. The one with peeling nails and greasy straw hair that has no choice but to remain a mess upon her head. The one who somehow works out every day in yesterday’s T-shirt or knock offs from Target, yet still struggles with her figure because dieting just doesn’t cut it for her. The one that inspects her body in the bathroom stall in hopes that she’ll finally meet the idolized image in her own mind that she obsesses over to tears. The one who sometimes splurges at Forever and VS, but only occasionally because she needs to save for groceries, and the clothes just look frumpy on her anyway. The one who’s up writing poetry at 2a.m. when she hasn’t even started her research paper, who can’t seem to find time for friends and cries to her boyfriend every night over the demons in her mind.
I keep hoping that, maybe someday, I’ll be that first girl; or maybe I’ll just always work for her.”
I think it is important to note that everyone, even “that girl,” experiences similar feelings. I say, embrace the mess you are because it is a sure sign of passion and hard work, and believe it will pay off some day.
(Photo cred: http://www.poemsz.tk/poetry-8/