Z

Pretty Girl doesn’t talk about much. Pretty Girl doesn’t
think she’s ‘pretty’. Pretty Girl has scars on her body he
says he doesn’t understand why they’re there. Pretty Girl
hears from Pretty Boy, ‘you shouldn’t do this, you’re so
beautiful, you’re so full of light, you’re such an incredible
thing.’ Pretty Girl says to Pretty Boy, ‘sweetheart, I am the
embodiment of a shooting. You will be a victim, you will
break, and I will be the culprit every time.’ Pretty Boy tells
the Pretty Girl he doesn’t see why she’s so fearful of her
own body. Pretty Girl replies, ‘dear, you’ve no idea the
damage I’ve dealt to this vessel that has pulled me away
from everyone around me;
I am not safe.
I am not safe.
I am not safe.’
Pretty Boy sighs. Pretty Boy caresses his fingers over my
thigh. Pretty Boy sees my reaction and holds me tighter.
‘You’re okay.
You’re okay.
You’re okay.’
Honey, do you understand that this Pretty Girl doesn’t
know the meaning of feeling whole? She never has.
Pretty Boy likes Pretty Girl, supposedly.
Pretty Girl likes Pretty Boy, definitely.
There is no solid ground here. Not yet. Everything is
quicksand, and I am
sinking,
sinking,
sinking into this Pretty Boy.
There is no branch for me to grab hold to and escape
this kind of pull. There is no safe word, no warning that
things won’t be as they have always been;
good, great, okay, and then nothing.
Pretty Girl cannot do this again.
But she will let herself anyway.
—  PRETTY BOY vs. PRETTY GIRL // Haley Hendrick