She is a walking stereotype.
Teenage Mutant Ninja Backpack, showtunes on her itunes,
beat up vans, and too big hoodies
Too geek for nerd, without the common connotation of calculating content,
she defies stereotypes,
lives her life between book pages and cries over the characters, temporary shelters for tear stricken teenagers, waiting for the one who won't leave.
You see, friends are rare, but heros can be bought at comic book shops, so why waste breathe with people who’ll never stay?
No time between T.V. show marathons anyway,
She started watching Supernatural the other day.
It’s got nine seasons. If she rations, it’ll last her till November, and by then she’ll have a blog dedicated to Dean Winchester.
"Jenson Ackles is a God. Did you see him in ten-inch hero? With eyes like that, no wonder people ship him with the angel, I heard he used to be a model,"
she says, lending bits of lonely to unwanted conversations,
weaving strands of metaphors (it’s her first time writing fanfiction),
she studies pop culture like its an art, and she's been trying to get a gig for the past 10 years.
When Sarah stopped talking to her,
she built Wonder Woman from construction paper, pasted her to the wall bigger than her bed, promised herself she’d never let mother take her down.
Filled the silence with old music, built a shrine to Elvis Presley, Yells at the radio whenever a bad remix plays.
When Carol stopped coming over,
she started watching old Kung-fu movies. They have this way of floating in midair, pausing right before impact,
and if she watched Jackie Chan enough, maybe she could learn to pause time,
right before impact.
When I met her,
my first words were, "I'm not the one who stays.
You see I am a walking stereotype.
12 year old girl in 13 years body with a 17 year old birth certificate, beat up boots, and safety pin skirts.
Too wide-eyed for blind, maybe I walk with eyes half closed, so I don't have to get attached to soil I'll never call home.
Goodbye tastes like copper coins sewn into gypsy skirts, and I'm not the one who stays."
But I've seen midnight dressed in half a gallon of ice cream, and if she ever needs a movie buddy I'll search the couch cushions for ticket change.
Because I'm the one perpetually leaving,
And she is the one perpetually being left.
But for now, we'll fill lonely full of fandoms. Pop another bag of popcorn, we've only just scratched the surface of Star Trek.
And when I'm gone,
She will add my name to the list of people who left her.
But until then, I still have time to convince her,
that the only one who ever mattered