The girl in pink

I hate comparing myself, and I don't but my god this one girl. I don't know whether I want to be her or just live admiring her from afar and no, this is not a love confession; this is the confession of a performative over achiever.

She wears pink on most days, eyes gleaming with this unwavering spark, like she woke up winning. Her smile could light up entire countries. The youngest in her family, but still an over achiever.

I hate it, I hate everything about her. Why does she have to be better? Why does she have to pop up in my head even on the days I fell so fulfilled with myself and ruin it.

I want to think like her, I want to speak like her, I want grades like hers, I want of her kind beauty, I want the depth she has in character, her maturity, her kindness, I want her. No no, sorry, ahm, I- I want to be like her.

What is it about her, that I notice every detail, oh and yeah, she changed the perfume she was previously using with a new one, an even better one.

I tried, I really tried to be someone who I was not, a smart responsible person that just happens to look effortlessly gorgeous, but the more I got into character the more I realized I was just trying to be her. 

Frankly, if it was someone else I wouldn't have thought twice before copying everything about them, becoming such an accurate clone that it looks like an entire human performed mitosis. But it was her, no matter how much I hate her, I respect her, and even more than I respect her, I respect myself.

So no, I do not accept defeat, why should she know that I even had the urge to disappear in her shadow. This never happened.

Forget, forget, forget, delete. I deleted the version of me in pink.

She was once again the only girl in pink.