You wish you had her confidence.
Her faultless smile, the ease at which she speaks to strangers, and the way she struts down the street with her head held high, oozing that elusive X factor none of us can quite put our finger on. But whatever it is – she’s got it.
You can’t see behind the front she has perfected. You can’t see all of the same insecurities that plague you, churning around inside of her mind. She’ll never remove the full suit of invisible armour she hugs tightly, to protect herself from the world that has burned her countless times before.
You wish you had her wealth.
But she wishes you could know how it brings her little joy. The flashy cars, the mansions and the designer wardrobe are momentarily great; but she would trade it all in a heartbeat for true happiness. She’d much rather have a family and friends who are always there for her, a loving partner who supports her, and peace in her heart.
You wish you had her boyfriend.
Because he’s hot, he’s popular, he’s successful and he’s the one every girl wishes was her man.
But you don’t see all the times she falls asleep next to him feeling terribly alone. You don’t know how many times he’s hurt her feelings or made her feel so small. And you don’t know about all the times other girls have thrown themselves at him and he’s failed to say no.
You don’t know that she continues to stay with him because she doesn’t realize she deserves worlds better.
You wish you had her success.
If only you had her glamorous job, her thriving business, or her plentiful achievements – maybe then you’d finally feel content? One more promotion, a fatter pay check, or greater recognition from the universe for all the hard work you do.
But you don’t realise that no matter how much she accomplishes in her life, she never feels good enough. Because all she craves is praise and approval from her family and friends – praise that rarely comes. So she keeps going and going and going, hoping this time it will finally be enough.
You wish you had her figure.
But you have no idea. You don’t see how she spends hours every day scrutinizing every inch of herself in the mirror. Because all she sees is imperfection after imperfection. You see perfect, but all she sees is a blood red F branded onto her skin signaling flawed.
You don’t know how she starves her body of nourishment, and then binges to the point of sickness when the hunger pangs grow uncontrollably strong.
As you pass her in the street, while scrolling through Instagram, or on the pages of your favourite magazine, you wish you were her. You desperately wish you could swap your plain jane existence for her extraordinary one.
But as she carries on with her ‘extraordinary’ life, all she thinks about is living a simpler, happier, love-filled one.
The very life you’ve been wishing away for all this time.