Poetic Paragraphs

Shadow

I wanted to be like you.

All this time, all this way, over all the paths I've walked and all the lanes I've crossed, I just wanted to be like you.

Because we were best friends, and you were better.

You didn't know how heartbreaking that is, to constantly walk in the shadow of greatness, watching someone bloom as you wilt.

You can't imagine how it feels to see you soak up all the sunlight.

You didn't even try.

And I watched, breath still in my lungs, heart silent in my chest, as you glowed and grew while I rotted.

Because I was never enough.

(Took me long enough to realize it.)

I should've known when we first met, summer sun shining down, and I hid in the shade of a tree while you played hopscotch.

You shined. Did you know that?

You smiled and you talked, and you didn't even have to try.

I think that's what hurt the most, seeing your smile. It was all so easy for you, making friends, being popular, and in first grade, popularity was the most that you could ever dream of.

And then you walked up to me and stuck out a hand, smile still on your face, and you said, "Hi."

Looking back, that probably didn't cost you anything either. (Words are cheap for you, and they come easily.)

I should've seen it, should've known, that I was just another pawn to be conquered, another column to add to your tower of popularity. Just a rung in the social ladder that you were climbing.

But you smiled, and I gave you my loyalty.

Just like that.

And time went on, and I learned that I wasn't enough, didn't deserve to be your friend, because you had an endless basketful of smiles while I had an ocean-ful of regrets and fatigue, all grouping around me to paint the bruises under my eyes. The waves tossed me as I fell asleep.

I should've known someone like me couldn't be like you, but I wanted to be, and I tried.

I shouldn't have.

Because I wasn't meant to be like you, and nothing I do can change that, not even if I tried to the ends of the world and back.

I started trying too late and I started with too little, and all the 'too's seemed to be teaming up against me.

I just wasn't enough.

It was hard to just chase after your shadow. I clung to your hand, and you sprinted into the future while I desperately tried not to let go.

I wanted to be like you, run at your speed, but I got tired so fast.

Some things are just not meant to be, and I guess I'm not enough.

Never have been, never will be.

So I think I might have to let go soon. I think I'll seep away, piece by piece, separating my existence from yours.

Because I know I'll never be happy like this, running after shadows, never finding a spotlight to step into because I'm too ugly, too little, too tired.

One time, I reached out and touched your light, your brilliance, let my dirty fingers wander their way into the spotlight, and I realized I didn't fit. I didn't belong in that spotlight, not like you do, with your sparkling smiles and your worthless words.

But I wanted to belong, with an ache that comes from wanting something you can't have, and I tried too hard to realize I shouldn't be trying.

Isn't that a tragedy? I could almost laugh.

I could almost fall over laughing, crying, filled with the nonsensical hysteria bubbling in my chest. I could almost feel the suppressed feelings bursting out and rupturing my ribcage, ribs crumbling and stabbing into my heart.

Almost.

Because now I understand.

I wasn't meant for the spotlight, wasn't made for success, not the kind that flies at the command of your fingertips.

I was made to work from the shadows.

I just realized it too late, and now I am good for nothing, left to linger in the grey in between light and darkness.

Sometimes I wonder what would happen if I could go back in time, return to that summer-lit day where you gave me your hand and your smile and the will to try for something that will never happen.

I think I would get up and leave.

And I don't think it would hurt you at all.

I'm only one best friend out of hundreds, and after a while, each individual doesn't matter so much.

In fact, I think you'll forget me, and once in a while, in a party meant for your infectious grins and careless compliments, you'll bring up an amusing anecdote about a girl who used to want to be like you.

Pathetic, you'll say, the word twisting your chapsticked lips, and you'll smile.

I don't even remember her name. Something green? Envy? I don't know, it was weird.

And somewhere, halfway across the world, away from the memories, I'll let your words hurt me.

My name is Jade, I'll whisper to myself, trying to soothe my heart, before I realize that the name is empty and my identity is unformed. Without you as a model, I am nothing.

During that summer day with the hopscotch and the shade, I lost the potential to make something of my name, fill it with adjectives to describe myself. I will never emerge from the shade of that tree, the shadow of your name and reputation.

I used to be Jade, but now I'm just jaded.

It's about time I left.

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(Not written about anyone in particular, hope you don't mind the short story!)