The other girl

You said, there’s this girl I know, a girl I know from work. She’s nice, she’s smart, and she’s a lot of fun to work with. She’s dependable, she’s responsible, and she takes good care of her family.

She’s a nice girl, you told me, a really good girl.

I think she likes me.

That’s the bomb, I thought, that’s the bomb right there. You think she likes you, you say, and you don’t know what to do. But hold on just a minute there, hold on for just a sec. Did you just listen to yourself as you said those lines? Those lines that sound like they’ve been practised, and made to sound just right. Did I just catch a hint of hope? Or perhaps even a touch of happy?

You like being liked, don’t you. We all do.

You asked, are you mad? Mad because this girl likes me.

Well, I can’t possibly be mad that you’re popular, now can I? So no, I told you, no I’m not mad.

She’s a nice girl, you said to me, you’ll like her if you get to know her.

To be quite honest, I quite like her too.

*

Now that there, that’s the bomb.

A grain of white sand

You lie there, silent and unmoving. There is activity all around you, and you wish so badly that you could join in the fun too.

But yet you lie there, quiet and still.

What would it take, you scream, to get a little attention? Even if for just a fraction of a second, could you not look at me, though small I may be? What should I do, you ask, to make you see me?

You feel unimportant.

Worse still, you feel useless.

You feel small and insignificant.

You feel like you could disappear, and no one would know any better.

You are nothing.

*

You have lost your voice. But no one has answered your pleas.

Now you ask yourself, Am I nothing?