Goldilocks

I feel like nothing when I stand next to you.
The way you flaunt yourself and act like the Three Bears want you.
The way you talk; you act like you’re so mature, taking the beds and porridge -
So wise beyond your years.

The way you always have to have an opinion. Shut up – nobody wants to hear it.
All you do is judge, “This one’s too big”
or nag, “This one’s too small”
or bitch about this, whine about that.

I can’t take it anymore.
I ignore you so that I can breathe for one more day - but I feel guilty.
But in my heart of hearts I know I need this – silence.
But I feel like a monster treating you this way, chasing you away.

But then you do it to me as if it comes naturally,
because you can’t be with more than one person at a time. You have to be a sneak.
You can’t stand to unite them for two seconds, because the attention is off of you.
You steal porridge from Baby Bear to make him cry, until all eyes are back on you.

So you push me aside when you’re with Little Red Riding Hood,
laughing and waving as you both drive by, grinning that dirty grin.
Maybe it’s because she takes your bullshit better than the neighbour, Big Bad Wolf did.
Maybe it’s because she likes to play pretend.

I cannot.
I guess that’s why I’m stuck on the outside, reading the Fairy Tale
while your days are spent living in Imagination Land,
making all the prettiest, most empty friends around.