HOT GIRL IS A STATE OF MIND
is what she shouts at me for the millionth time,
As I sit here crying over things I can’t change.
Sure, it’s pathetic.
Sure, it’s unproductive.
Sure, whatever you say, but…
Sometimes I spend the day wishing to be in the arms of someone else.
YOU DON'T HAVE TO BE HOT TO BE A HOT GIRL
is what they laugh at me, and sure,
It’s not my looks or gender or sexuality that’s
Holding me back but, but, but--
HOT GIRLS DO WHAT HOT GIRLS DO
is what I read everywhere and– look, it’s true;
My state of mind is still linked to you.
So please, I’m sick of posing in the mirror,
Shoving out my ass and lifting my boobs,
Waiting for one more chance just to…
Sometimes I lose the plot.
But it always comes back, it has to come back.
ALL THE HOT GIRLS FEEL LIKE THIS
is what I write to myself
In the corner of my room,
And repeat to myself,
Wishing it will be over soon.
(Hey, I know I shouldn’t text you but…)
(Hey, me again, sorry to drop in…)
But I don’t want to be a hot girl anymore,
I don’t want to feel like this.
But that’s when I realize the only way to truly be a hot girl,
Is to cry your lungs out on the kitchen floor over a kiss,
And then have the strength
to get the hell up again.
Victoria Wraight (she/her) is an avid reader and writer always looking for the cryptic and strange in her hometown of Buffalo, New York. When she isn’t haunting local bookstores, she can be found hunched over an iced coffee exploring her latest weird ideas. Her work has been featured in Diet Milk Mag, Wintermute Lit, Hearth & Coffin, and Not Deer Magazine.