#coolgirl
I used to introduce myself as such:
"Hi, I'm Racquel. My friends call me Rocky."
Not long after everyone came to know me as "Rocky".
...
Who the **** are all you people?
...
Allow me to reintroduce myself.
"Lovely to meet you. My name is Racquel. Please don't call me."
Dec 2, 2025
Dec 2, 2025 at 9:16 PM UTC
At first,
I am every story you’ve ever loved:
the girl with wild eyes and a crooked smile,
the glitterbomb dropped into your heavy life.
I am the Manic Pixie Dream,
softened and sharpened just right,
scripted to be the key you didn’t know you lost.
I love it, too.
I love playing her.
I love the way I can become
everything I thought I couldn't be—
light, brave, impossible.
I fall in love with the girl they see,
the one who spins in the rain,
who kisses like it’s a dare,
who never stays still long enough
for anyone to notice the cracks.
For a while,
I even forget the weight of myself.
For a while,
the mirror throws back someone I almost recognize,
someone almost worth keeping.
But the days grow teeth.
The seams split.
My clinginess stops being "cute,"
my mess stops being "quirky,"
my fear starts leaking through the paint.
Then I remember:
I'm not magic.
I'm work.
I'm a maze with no ending.
I'm a mouthful of needs no one knows how to swallow.
And they start seeing it too.
The way I flinch when they look too long.
The way my laugh gets hollow.
The way I start pleading through my eyes,
"Please, please don't look closer."
I know how this ends.
The Dream Girl dies the moment she becomes real.
Nobody writes sequels for the ones who stay.
So I run.
I tear the script from my hands,
I rip the costume at the seams.
I run before they can stop loving the idea of me,
before they have to face the weight of who I am
beneath the glitter and noise.
I find a new stage,
a new pair of arms,
a new chance to believe in the girl I invented—
if only for a little while longer,
If only to live in someone else's dreams,
If only to forget the weight of waking up.
Apr 28, 2025
Apr 28, 2025 at 12:10 AM UTC
I learned how to be the cool girl
Because I wasn’t cut out to be a school girl.
Meditated on being the chill girl,
Because nobody likes the high-strung girl.
Tried out being the party girl.
I can’t swim, so I never was a beach girl.
Always making friends, so I’m not the hard-to-reach girl.
I like being the artsy girl,
The make anything she sees girl,
The changes her mind about who she wants to be girl.
I don’t think I’m a 9-to-5 girl,
But I think I’m an eating berries in the forest girl,
A singing music in the park girl.
Saw darkness but overcame it, girl.
An obstacles never stopped me, girl.
Enforces her will on the world girl.
A love you for your whole life girl,
A couldn’t hate you if I tried girl.
I learned to be the cool girl
By just being my own girl.
Mar 14, 2025
Mar 14, 2025 at 2:01 PM UTC
Uptight,
Never quite right
Blame the “timing”
Despite countless years “trying”
Futile and undermining;
You’re forever chasing whatever it is you find most mesmerizing.
You’re done now with the tantalizing;
I’ve surpassed my prime,
Disposable-
You’re onto the next.
The latest shiny thing -
The “cool girl” trope;
Some pretty face for you to spit on,
Never for her to provoke.
Frail inside,
Your pitiful mind…
So the next one, just like the last:
A temporary home for you to impose your wrath.
Suffering eternally inside, running from your past;
Continually searching for something that will never be within your grasp.
Nov 21, 2021
Nov 21, 2021 at 8:16 PM UTC
Become more, for what? For who?
Why does it matter anymore?
Defining traits,
Surface level, it’s all they want anyways
So why even bother to face the pain
Introspective
And reflective
Admired only by myself
Not even in their language,
Mesmerized and entertained,
chasing always their counterfeited dreams, come to think of them as fiends
True gold is not recognizable by their shallow eyes
They fall for a quicker, shinier version, enlaced and filled with lies
“Cool,” their defining trait
Depth, care little if you portray
Theyd prefer the certain ease and masking of reality
Or perhaps they’re not even conscious of it, perpetually surrounded, lacking any reflection internally
See in others a reflected mirror image of themselves, providing a generic purpose, so life it seems has simplicity
Simplicity is a lie
Any man who believes he possesses it is merely in an altered state of mind
Ignorance will only carry you so far
Until time will make you see
Life is so complex, so we drown it out and reduce it down, begging to question what is REALity?
May 19, 2019
May 19, 2019 at 10:59 PM UTC