Pretty People: Sal and Jessica (I am we)

It's hard to give someone one person when your two. And it’s hard to give them both and have them be afraid.
It's hard enough being the girl that's too tall. Too dorky. Too obsessed with Pokemon and portal. It's hard to be "that" girl, that gets her backpack stolen and sits alone at lunch, plus or minus a few equally awkward friends.

But it's really heard, to be that girl…and someone else deep inside.

Sometimes she comes out to play.
All the time actually.
She is better than the girl I am. Meek, timid, afraid of social norms Jessica.

Her name is Sal.
No not short for Sally, just Sal. She doesn't need nick-names or labels to define her like I do.
She's very cold. Tundra cold. From her skin to her heart and down to her toes.
But yet, she is kind to me...sometimes.
She always speaks her mind, when I silence mine.
And she fights for what she believes in and argues until she wins, while I sit and hide behind her.

And she sometimes fights me.
"Why aren't you drawing? If you don't draw, then I can't write!"
"What's wrong with you!"
"LET ME OUT LET ME OUT LET ME OUT LET ME OUT LET ME OUT LET ME OUT LET ME OUT LET ME OUT LET ME OUT LET ME OUT LET ME OUT LET ME OUT LET ME OUT!!!!"
But sometimes she's silent.
...
And it scares me more than when she talks.

But no matter what she'll always be my friend. 
She's been my friend since we were both seven.
There's a difference between imaginary friends, and who you really are.
Who you want to be.
And who you are when no one's looking.

That's the problem though: Sal comes out when people are looking. Sal comes when people aren't.
I can't even tell who I am anymore.

Sal...
Jessica...

No one.

But I don’t hate her for taking over me sometimes...
I love her, maybe.
No, wait...

I can't deplete her from my mind.
She controls that part of me maybe.
Because I can't bring myself to think about it sometimes.

It's like Frankenstein.
No that she's a monster.
Please don't tell her that she's a monster.
That I am a monster.

But like Frankenstein.
We create something that is made for our own personal needs, and then it develops feelings, and needs, and wants, and dreams...and it gets out of hand...and you need to silence it, but you can't.

Sometimes I'm the Frankenstein.
No one understands us.
No one gets us.

I wish it were just her.
Maybe.
She's strong.
When she writes she can move boulders,
And when she works hard she can move mountains!
She can create universes...
Maybe even more personalities.
 And then I want to be myself again.

Because she knows everything and I don't. And I don't know what's worse: To know everything and be left disappointed because there is nothing really out there for you to continue on for, or to not know anything and be in the dark. To be behind the mask of a girl who is a little insane and pulling all the strings.

It's like hell.
Sometimes.
Sal pretends like she is me, that she really is a person outside of me
And I don't exist at all.
And maybe that's for the best.

But sometimes...sometimes its like heaven.
Heaven when she doesn't talk as much, or as loud.
And I can be a person. Maybe outside of Sal.
That she doesn't exist at all.
And maybe that's for the best too.


Because in a way it's dark and light and fuzzy all around the edges.
I mean...
Are there more?


Pretty people are made of Ugly experiences.

I am not one of those people.
I am Sal.
I am Jessica.
I am...She is…We are...

We are not what you see.
I am we.

Jessica and Sal. 15 years old. January 9th 2012.