The Story of That Girl

By: Kelly

I always used to say, I will never be "That Girl". The one who constantly second guesses herself and is always whispering deep inside: “Am I good enough?” I've learned the hard way however, that we can hide the truth with our contempt for weaklings like Bella Swan, but every single one of us has the capacity to allow a scumbag make us feel unworthy. This is a story about That Girl, who every girl has been, is, or will be.

Once upon a time That Girl fell for a boy. She fell hard and fast and saw the whole thing coming, but couldn’t stop it even if she’d wanted to. She felt her stomach drop at the first sight, the first word, the first touch. It screamed, “Watch out! You think this hurts? Just wait- this is only the beginning.” But That Girl ignored her poor stomach and ignored her brain, and followed her heart- the one organ that was rebelling against her. He made her feel alive and young and beautiful and smart and fun and free. When they were together, they clicked like they were born for each other- all the grooves and flaws fit the way they were supposed to. Together, they were invincible and content and well, perfect in each other’s imperfections (Or so it seemed. And when it seems, it is so)

But then, the inevitable happened. The scumbag remained a scumbag and revealed his scummy character. Maybe it wasn’t even his fault. Maybe they were just a couple of children playing at the playground. She would let him chase her and would stop long enough for him to snake his arms around her waist before she would take off giggling with mirth again. When she finally did decide she wasn’t afraid of cooties anymore, she realized he had left her at the jungle gym for a girl with freckles who was swinging on the swings. Thus is life.

That Girl now knew firsthand what her stomach had been warning her about. She was like the little girl who jumps in the deep end of the pool, despite the fact that her mom told her it wasn’t safe. She felt the water rush in over her head and her body filled with panic. That Girl was performing open heart surgery on herself- that’s how confusing and scary and real it felt. The colors disappeared and everything was black and white, contrasting between the two so quickly that all she could see was a blur of gray. That Girl fought to keep her head above the water, and fought to keep her hand steady as she held the tools that could fix her own bleeding heart, but she couldn’t tell if the world was more black or white or maybe it was actually gray after all. Without that knowledge, she was stuck treading water and gasping for breath.

Eventually, That Girl got so used to the treading and the gasping while everyone else around her continued to swim; performing lovely breaststrokes and backstrokes while she continued to flounder her way through the doggy paddle. The routine grew as comfortable as was possible, and for the most part, she adapted out of necessity. She had never shared her true experiences with him to anyone else, not out of secrecy but because there were no words to describe them. So now she waded through the gray and red water alone, and it was mostly okay. She could laugh with friends, feel joy and excitement, be proud and happy and normal. But every time That Girl “stopped caring”, Scumbag would swim by and her insides would feel hollow all over again when she saw him glide through the water with presumably not a care in the world. Despite it all, she missed him. It wasn’t even him she actually missed -but the hope- the optimism that the two of them had a chance together. It was the pain of seeing a once beautiful opportunity slip through her hands like the water she couldn’t keep a firm grasp on. Even if it’s just a lie and an illusion she concocted in her head, she knew in some ways, at some time, he dreamt it too. But now it is just a dream left in Dreamworld and all that is left is awkward, purposeful separation.

The worst part for That Girl is having to tread the gray waters with feigned indifference. She is a horrible actor because she’s so good. She can never just yell and scream and cry for a life boat to come save her. She can never just confront the scumbag and push and curse him for the heaven and the hell he put her through. Instead, she pretends she feels nothing and as a result, she feels less. It numbs and weakens the pain and nearly convinces her that she truly doesn’t care- except for the times when it comes rushing back out unexpectedly and takes full control of her body.

Now That Girl feels like an old woman and wishes for the time when she was the little girl running on the playground. At that moment, if felt so good being the female who is not expected to initiate the games but whose only job is to run and get caught. What happens when you’re the fish who isn’t getting caught? The one fish who needs to be caught because you can’t even swim anymore? Sure there are other fish in the sea, but the salt in the water is hurting That Girl’s heart and all the while the other, fitter fish are being caught. That Girl is so tired of waiting by the jungle gym. “Why can’t you get it together?” she asks him and herself. “I don’t ask for much.” The worst moments are those when she blames herself. Maybe if she had run a little slower, or offered to swing with him, he would have stayed. Maybe she pushed him away.

Remember That Girl. Remember where you come from, even if you’ve never been her. When you are about to be caught up in the emotional swells and carried away in the “high of the moment”, don’t just swim away. Sure, be happy. There isn’t anything wrong with that- it’s important to soak in every drop of joy that you can from a good experience. Nothing feels better than those moments when you literally can’t keep yourself from screaming and jumping up and down because you just feel GOOD and can’t even contain yourself. The world is so big and beautiful, and it is swelling up inside of you, and you don’t feel like your body is able to hold it all for even one more second. You can’t stop grinning and energy is pulsating through your body and nothing else matters except NOW.

But you don’t stop at Now. Realize that Now is a fickle bitch that doesn’t last forever. When you are happier than you ever remember being, remember the times when you thought you were going to die. Remember the times you felt as if you were the only person alive because nobody in the world was there for you. The times when it hurt to breathe, when waking up was a laborious, impossible task. When you felt the blood pumping through your veins and every step and sight was a painful reminder of how small you were.

Or better yet, remember the times you felt as if you were the only person dead because you didn’t feel anything at all. It became easier to just turn it all off and you became legitimately afraid that you would never feel again. You would blindly press on, going through the motions and would vaguely register the emotions you should feel in a certain situation. You would remember to laugh when society dictated you were supposed to laugh, but always a few seconds too late. The moments when you were in the hole like a trapped animal, with the bell jar suspended over your head ready to fall at any second and isolate you from the world again. Never forget these places because to forget is selfish. To move on from that pain completely and to disregard it is unforgiveable.

It’s unforgiveable because it is not exclusive to only you. Every single day you pass That Girl. Yes, she might have to fight her battles alone as you did, but you can at least do her the favor of not exacerbating her pain. To see someone else in a place of bliss when you feel like you are dying is one of the worst feelings in the world. It has nothing to do with jealousy. You want to be happy for the person, but how can you be when you can’t even be happy for yourself? Even though you don’t want it to, seeing such purity in other people’s lives is like the salt water in the cut. It stings. People who can be happy without singing and shouting about their Wonderful Lives to the whole world are the ones people will want to help the most when the tide turns against them. People who exert some control over their actions and restrain themselves out of respect for those suffering will receive the gratitude and support they have earned when they need it most. Be happy quietly, for their sakes.

Temper your joy with compassion for those who are still left behind in the deep end. Don’t be the best friend who gets into their dream school, or makes the cheerleading squad and is so caught up in her own success that she abandons those who supported her when she had braces and her grandma died and her boyfriend broke up with her. In the words of Sirius Black, "If you want to know what a man's like, take a good look at how he treats his inferiors, not his equals." When you are feeling superior, don’t. Because you aren’t. Fortune might be smiling upon you Now, but that is never fully to your own merit. That is chance. Rejoice quietly and channel compassion- it will be a blessing to the people all around you who, for that instant, won’t feel quite so alone.