all my adolescent attempts at novels
revolved around a shy protagonist.
reserved and introverted wallflowers all:
each one blushing with her eyes downcast
to find themselves center stage.
these heroines, in their unfinished worlds,
appear a strange antithesis to the teenage norm –
the creation that mirrors its creator so closely,
a confessional they could not help but make.
yet as these fictional young women
are forced into being the star,
they do reveal more about the one behind them
than she even knew herself.
i can see it now:
the girl with the loud voice,
the flashy personality,
wrestling with her deep loneliness
and desire to be Good,
and how in book after book,
movie after movie,
nothing had led her to believe
that the noisy extrovert
could be anything but shallow.
if there was a part of her
that might be excised,
it should be the part yearning
for the spotlight;
these half-selves, each a better self,
were allowed to experience
what she longed for
as long as they were longing
for something else.
Hope by Write 