Julia Roberts

I don’t like Julia Roberts

All my friends know that

But they don’t know why

Sometimes they ask

I just brush it off with a shrug and say, “It’s a really long story”

I’m scared to tell my friends why

I’m afraid my opacity might decrease to the point where I become transparent

I never want anyone to be able to see right through me

But it’s weighing down on me, almost a chip on my shoulder

I think it’s time to share why

I saw Eat Pray Love for the first time when I was a freshman

I had read a few good reviews, and watched the trailer a couple times

The movie was highly anticipated

I rented the DVD and watched it by myself

It really wasn’t that great

I got lost somewhere between the “life-affirming pasta” and the affair with a man seemingly half the main character’s age

I was disappointed

When I was first a freshman, things were changing

I didn’t have many of my middle school friends, or really any at all

I wasn’t sure who to sit with in class or at lunch

I didn’t know who to talk to in the hallway for at least a solid month

I wanted something, anything constant

Some trait that would set me apart and become part of my character

A character I didn’t think I had

Julia Roberts received the short end of the stick

It seems so small and silly

But a distaste for Julia Roberts has tethered me to being someone

Why Julia Roberts? Because it’s not like I haven’t seen any movies worse than Eat Pray Love

I really didn’t have a reason at all

But it’s the lack of motive for hating Julia Roberts that fuels it now

I never had a reason to hate her

I’m worried my friends may think the reason I don’t like her is some elaborate mysterious tale they’ll only get to hear if they’re lucky enough for me to trust them

I don’t want to appear limpid to them, I’d rather die than seem boring

I blame Julia Roberts for that lack of character that left an empty gap in my life last year

I’ve always feared not having enough friends and I blame Julia Roberts

It’s the worry that I’m not interesting enough that keeps the flame burning

I blame Julia Roberts for the uncertainty and indecision that would ever make me too dull

Because who else do I blame?

The only other option is myself

I don’t want to do that

I like myself

I haven’t been quantifiably insecure in so long

I’m interesting enough, right?

I’ve got a super cool backstory explaining the secret reason for my mysterious aversion to Julia Roberts that I don’t tell people because I don’t have to expose all my secrets to be comfortable with who I am because I am interesting enough on my own

But the words plain, average, simple, and typical haunt me

What if my story doesn’t make them laugh?

What if my thoughts are too cliché?

What if I don’t have a good enough reason to dislike Julia Roberts?

They might return me to that friendless stage where I surround myself with people who don’t try to get to know me because I’m not interesting enough

Blaming everything on Julia Roberts hides the faults within myself

Faults that I pray only I can see

And when I don’t like Julia Roberts

I can like myself

So I don’t like Julia Roberts

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