A Reverse Chronological Portrait Written by a Young Girl
Entry 7
How could I belong to a man like this? Enjoy his presence?
No, it’s true I’m young. And it’s true I’ve failed to develop any type of relationship with boys my own age. It’s true I once considered something might be wrong with me, not them, not him. It’s true I may still be the problem.
It’s all awfully true. He, though, made me forget it. He, as silly and prepubescent as this sounds, made me forget quite everything. With him, it was a different type of want. Well, it bordered on need was how he made it feel. How mortifying.
Not to mention how pretty I felt. Pretty, until he stained me. His calloused handprints blemished my cherry-scented skin. Like little echoes, still resonating. How could I like this?
Also, I felt delicate, but not as though I’d been some flower awaiting his debasement. I’m delicate, like a wishbone. He would snap me in half.
How could I not want him?
No, it’s true I’m young. And it’s true I’ve failed to develop any type of relationship with boys my own age. It’s true I once considered something might be wrong with me, not them, not him. It’s true I may still be the problem.
It’s all awfully true. He, though, made me forget it. He, as silly and prepubescent as this sounds, made me forget quite everything. With him, it was a different type of want. Well, it bordered on need was how he made it feel. How mortifying.
Not to mention how pretty I felt. Pretty, until he stained me. His calloused handprints blemished my cherry-scented skin. Like little echoes, still resonating. How could I like this?
Also, I felt delicate, but not as though I’d been some flower awaiting his debasement. I’m delicate, like a wishbone. He would snap me in half.
How could I not want him?