I’m not afraid to be fascinating
I’m not afraid to be fascinating
I used to be afraid that I’d come off as arrogant
or privileged (“I went to Princeton…” in a quiet voice)
I was afraid that too many boys would
become infatuated with me
tell our mutual friends they liked me
to find out if it was mutual
or more bravely:
ask me out while I swept the dining hall like Cinderella
and face a kind deflection rejection
or more creepily:
seek me out in locations I was known to frequent
including outside my dorm room
when I returned dripping from the showers
Because I’m beautiful and kind to them
sexy and fascinating
Just the right average body
tight clothing to hug it
short skirts to reveal it
with a clever comic quirky sweet disposition
toward clever comic quirky sweet boys
BUT
I was only clever comic quirky sweet
if I wasn’t intimidated
Tall toned high-cheekboned athletes made me nervous
For them I was quiet
Awkward
Pretty
But dumb
(mute)
Unless they hit on me
At a pregame or an eating club
Then I could play with them
Like Lego’s
“What’s your name?”
“Yo Ma Ma.”
“Really?? No way, come on what’s your name?”
“I’m serious, it’s a crazy story
my parents met in China
Yo Ma Ma means ‘female warrior’ in Chinese.”
They would buy it
or change tactics.
It doesn’t really matter what happened next
we didn’t want the same thing anyway
me and these partying athletes
This notorious Venn diagram of “likes me” and “I like”
has since joyfully overlapped
But that’s actually not
why I’m not afraid to be fascinating.
It’s because I can’t help it now
my filter, my dam broke in my honesty flood
my mania felled my filter, my dam
my Effexor brought on my mania
my long deep depression prescribed my Effexor
It’s because of that mental health treatment flowchart that I’m not afraid.
From the darkest largest cumulonimbus
birthed open glowing gloaming skies.
(to revamp that also-alliterative catchier cliche with assigned assonance!)
Fascinate all you want!
I am not afraid.
