or, alternatively, an intergalactic story, suddenly.
not the kind of girl you immediately see, she’s the type who’s, ironically, always there. to “notice her presence” doesn’t equate to “seeing her as she is” but most of the time, she looks like she doesn’t mind. because she’s endlessly nice and well-meaning — or at least, she looks like she is, mostly.
mostly. is the word one uses for her, because the thing she’s usually granted is an approximation. an estimation from afar. because she is usually safe and she won’t mind how far or close one is, or how far or close the actual estimation is to the real thing.
to say that she’s the type one often sees through may not be accurate. because that would be implying she’s actually within the line of vision. not necessarily true. she’s the girl in the periphery — always on the side, never the center. like moons blindly circling something circling something else.
of course, there’s always a galaxy metaphor.
and so you go your own orbit, circling something or other, something far bigger than she is, yet she stays on. it’s gravity, a huge otherworldly attraction, and she can’t stand not circling you, a stupid moon to your earth, your mars, your venus. (of course since we’re in the business of metaphors, might as well) they all have names but that’s what we remember them by: moons, satellites. sad nameless things out there in cold unforgiving space. how far away is the moon? see, i don’t even know. all i can say is it’s very far.
her most visible effect is the regular tide. she pulls out the sea, and it empties beaches during afternoons. and that is all. she is most beautiful when she is full, but we all know where her beauty comes from, don’t we? i do, and now i’m thinking about it, it only makes me sad.
once i was asked why it was that nobody could ever love her as she was - convoluted and incorrigible but how beautifully so.
i think i said, “why don’t i ever count?”