"Envy," by Estelle M.

Envy
by Estelle M.

Green. The color of envy. The color of the sweater I'm wearing.

Pink. The color that She wears. The color of the cheetah print dress She says is her favorite. The color of her lips that are so big and pink it looks like a plastic surgery gone wrong and she used a truck load of lipstick to cover it up.
Yellow. The color of her stupidly fake blonde hair, the color of the sun that I draw in my pictures every day. The sun that is supposed to be the thing that tans people, but it looks like She had fake tanned so much, it would rub off if I pressed a paper against it.

I stare at her blonde hair, blue eyes, smile that reads, I own this place, and just by looking at you, I can tell you are a loser, compared to me.  

Look at me, aren’t I beautiful, aren’t I better then you? I’m a princess and you’re just dirty peasants, her posture says.

I look away. I look down at my chubby baby hands. Her slim fingers mock me. Her waist might as well be just as thin, making her look like a stupid hourglass. But it looks like time hasn’t touched her. Looks like she’ll be young forever.

Her heels almost as big as her head look like they could be used as a weapon in a street fight. A street fight where Princess wouldn’t be caught dead watching.

She stares at me. Right into my soul. Through her obviously fake eyelashes, past her dress that was much too short for a woman of her height.

She has the perfect hair, the perfect body, anyone who would try and replicate Her would have to go through a colossal plastic surgery, and everyone would be surprised you didn’t die.

I throw my Barbie across the room.

She’s too pretty for me.