leilei
i can still remember summertime.
running wild, and sleeping in, tasting strawberry ice cream. sitting on my papa's lap and listening to stories and loving life.
someone calls my name, and i turn to answer, still tasting strawberry ice cream.
I hate earrings.
Annoying, girly, sometimes the cause of infection. Ugh.
A “symbol of feminitity,” they tell me. “Wear them, they're pretty.”
Beauty is pain, apparently…though I don't understand why ears need to be pretty.
When he's gone, sometimes I'll go and sit at Daddy's desk.
It's all business-like and big and shiny mahogany wood. It used to make me feel like a big girl.
Now it reminds me that he always spent more time in here than he did with his family.
And I almost hate myself for not crying at his funeral. And then I realize that never seeing him again isn't that different than the way it was before.
To entice. To draw in. To lure.
It's a talent of hers: to lure them in, to break their hearts.
Beautiful, they call her. Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful.
She draws them in; she breaks their hearts; and she tries to convince herself that the fun of it is worth the guilt she denies feeling.