Lonnie Hicks

Freshman - 813 Points (www.lonniehicks.com / Chicago Ill)

The Bad Pretty Girl - Poem by Lonnie Hicks

I am the pretty one,
the one the girls hate
and the boys pant for
and I stand aloof because
there is no room for me to be
who I am.

All I get is people reacting
to how I look
and I see them whisper
'She's so stuck up.'
I am not.
I am lonely and superior to them
that make these kinds of comments.

So all day I have to take the stares
and the mini-hatreds
just because I am pretty.
I like being pretty
it comes easy to me;
takes no effort.

My hair is beautiful and I don't have to do anything to it.
My skin is good. Thank God, no zits
My figure is good
but I get the comments when I walk through-
the Neanderthals always make comments-
and I cannot help it if my parents are rich.

So I am trapped behind this wall.
I don't have to study hard to get good grades;
this school is easy.
I don't have to work hard for anything.
Things just come to me.
But it has made a prison for me
and because I don't have to get smart
or work hard-
I can get by on my looks.
My teachers like me-
one too much,
so in the end I am doing what I hate
others do-
seeing me only in terms of how I look
and I realize I am doing the same thing to myself.

I am my looks. I am trapped.
So when boys try to talk to me I clam up
because I think there is only one thing they want.
And most of the time I am right. They do-just want
one thing.
Other's of them just want to say I am their girl friend
even if that is not true just so they can brag to their friends.

Some of them lie and claim they had you, or you
are lesbian just because you don't like them.

I am the pretty girl and most times that is pretty sad.

So I don't talk to anyone except other pretty girls.
They understand. They have the pretty girl thing too.

So we stand around sometimes and think we are superior
but we also think secretly we might be inferior and lonely too
and who is going to feel sorry for the pretty girl? Nobody that's who.

So I dated the football guy who was pretty too. It seemed he would
understand-handsome and pretty, the same thing I thought.
Boy was I wrong. He was his mothers' boy and only liked me
because he thought there was prestige in it. And I did it for
the same reason. We both were boring when alone and tried to
look like the super couple when people were around.
I was bored and truth be told I was also boring.
I had nothing to say and all's he wanted to talk about was football
and sex.
I told him no.
And then he latched onto my best friend, well I called her my best friend, but
we were not really friends. We just sorta hung out together.
My real best friend was Alma for a while. She was the ugly sidekick
pretty girls seem to attract. All she wanted to do was be with me. She did
everything I asked her to, sometimes without me even asking. I began to think that just maybe being pretty was being superior. People like Alma
made it easy to think that. She seemed to think I was superior.
I used to lie to her about all the boys coming on to me and things they said and she believed those lies. I felt I had to tell the stories because the stories seemed to mean so much to her. Besides telling her the phony stories gave me a fantasy life to make up for my real one.
We were a good pair of friends for a while until Alma told me one day about her love. Her love for me. And I realized she was not talking about friend love.
That's another thing, you get come ons from both genders and some like Alma turn into stalkers. She lied and told her friend that we had been together. A total lie.
That is why high school is prison camp for the pretty girl.
I broke down one day while talking to Geek Billy who came over to my house to fix my computer. He was rad-geek and shorter than me and I never really considered him a real person or anything so I was talking like he was not even there. I was saying 'why me, why does everyone hate me? '
He started yammering that he didn't hate me, and put his arm around me. I looked up and saw that he was not trying to jump my bones, he really was trying to comfort me like he understood and all that. It was laughable you know. I was so above him and everything but he seemed that day like a real person to me for just a tiny minute.
He left and I lay on my bed and wrote into my diary-'Geek boy loves me.'
I wrote: 'I am the pretty girl no one likes because I am above them.'


Comments about The Bad Pretty Girl by Lonnie Hicks

  • (5/30/2010 8:20:00 PM)


    Ahhh sweet, simple prose.
    It was a story, with light details,
    but it drew immecsely detailed pictures in my mind...
    And gave me a look into the pretty girls head.
    Absolutely lovely.
    (Report) Reply

    0 person liked.
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  • (5/8/2010 8:58:00 AM)


    true that. its like we live the same life! I havent talked to you in forever! (Report) Reply

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Poem Submitted: Sunday, April 25, 2010

Poem Edited: Sunday, November 14, 2010


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