dear genesis by desire o.


Dear Genesis,

You told me that beautiful things don’t have to beg for attention. You told me that I was beautiful, over and over, even on days I didn’t ask you. So surely, something is false. Either beautiful things do beg for attention, or you lied, and I am not of the denomination.

I think it is the latter. I saw your text with her, that girl. I think she is beautiful. Ethereal. And I found her Instagram, and every day, I change one more thing to look like her, one more tiny, seemingly inconsequential thing.

Today, I parted my hair to the side, like her. I measured it just like it sat in all her pictures, pulling the hair from the crook of my eyebrow. I wore purple lipstick like she does, lined my lips in that shade of red you seem to love. I know you love it. I have watched her obsessively, and you have liked every single post with that combination, ignoring the ones without it.

Mine are up. Did you notice? We had on the same outfit, and I did it on your lunch break. When you usually scroll on the app.

I have become her, don’t you realize? I am a copy. I have the hair. I cut my nose in half with contour, and I could pass as her twin.
I am in every one of her live videos. I know how she rolls her Rs, and I do too. I talk like her already, breathy. But now I am breathier. Perhaps sounding like I am on the verge of collapse is what will make you come back to me. But it is not.

You will want me back. You will, you will, youwillwantmeback, goddamnit.
Perhaps I sound crazy. You’re the shrink here, you’d know. But you ruined me, Gen, you ruined me. I need you like a drug. We were 7 years. Endgame. But you’re okay. You can just leave me on the verge of insanity, pick up another girl. And you will be okay. But not me, huh? You told me no one but you would love me, do you recall?
I am too messy, too much, too painful to love. Do you remember that?
“Elise. You’re right. It’s hard to love people like you. Who have hurt like you. It can be draining, exhausting. But you’re lucky. Few people can do it. For you, I’m the only one.”

Cutting sweetness, barely disguised evil.
Now I cannot get that line out of my head.
I’m needy for wanting you to look at me. That was when you told me that thing about beautiful things, is it not? Now, I am no longer an option. I am her and she is beautiful, but I am begging. Pleading. Needing your attention. See me. Please. Am I not a thing of worship anymore? You used to say that.

I’m not even a thing anymore. I’m a once was. An ex. A past.
One of us will be ruined, and you can’t ruin what’s already a ruin, so watch out for me. You will bleed.
Oh, say hi to Selah for me, will you? She’s a pretty girl.
A pretty girl for a pretty girl, don’t you love it?

Love always,

P.S: maybe not always.

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Pencilmarks and Scribbles Magazine was founded in 2017 by Clara Jack to be a home for African writers, asking them to come as they are and giving them room for growth. The publication aims to give back to the Nigerian Literary scene for the things it has given us.