For James

I'm writing this here for the thought that maybe you do still read this.

You are never going to fully understand how much you really hurt me. You are never going to know me. And I couldn't expect you too, either. Our lives are so different; you've got a family and friends and I am who I am, the daughter of people who didn't want one and tried to cover that guilt up with so much money that they didn't have to see me. You have no idea what it is like to live a life where you're perfectly aware, from a young age, that you were not wanted. That no one genuinely loves you. That you are around for appearences, another dress that a narcissistic mother would not wear, another expense for an overworked father. This is who I am, they lied just like you did. Sent me away to schools that would take up so much time that they'd never be bothered with me; to a country far enough away that I couldn't call. I don't know what its like to matter. I don't understand what it is to be part of something. All I know, I display. I'm named after dead queens remembered for their rule alone. I'm named after women who lived and died entirely and completely alone.

And what hurts most is that you don't see me. You're like the rest of them, you only see what I put out. You see the queen, not the woman. You see pretty clothes, blonde hair, big jewelry and a good job. You see what I put out, my mother's face, my father's wit, my candor. See me, James, see me. See what a horrible thing it is to be beautiful and forever deemed worthless. See me, the 9 year old that was afraid to go home from school because mommy was so mad, see me, the 14 year old who's first love and best friend is dead and gone at 17, see me, this disaster I've become behind all the glitter. See me.

All I've ever wanted was to be loved. I don't know what that's like. I know what it's like to be admired, I know what it's like to be ornamental. I used to tell you not to tell me that I'm beautiful, but you never understood that's its because I know I am and how little that is worth. I know where I stand with the men I date, what I'm worth to them. I know what I'm worth to my family, I know as long as I please everyone and wear something pretty I'll be fine. I don't want this life anymore than you'd want it. It's all I understand and I hate being a product of something empty. I hate being empty. I want to get out more than you'll ever know. You once told me I'd be very rich. I never told you I tried not to cry when you did. That's all I am. That's all I have. Everything, and nothing in one.

You didn't understand how important it was to have someone to talk to. How important it was to me to feel as if someone wanted to listen, someone cared what I thought and said. You took the phone away first, and disappeared. I wanted to know what it was like to matter, to count to someone, I wanted to know what reality felt like. I wanted to be loved. I wanted to be part of something, someone, I wanted to make a difference to someone. I wanted to be real. I wanted to be touched behind the glitter. I wanted to mean something. If you knew from the get-go that you were not this man then you shouldn't have tried to make me think you were. You didn't see me at all.

And now I'm back where I began. I'm dressed right now and have my makeup done, ready for another act, another expensive drink at a bar with a man who is just as empty as I am. I play a part. This is who I am. The queen. A crown of jewels so bright it blinds out the obvious loneliness of being at the top. You're just another courtier, you weren't the prince at all. You're scared of me, too. You don't want to know me, you wanted me to look good for you and not complain. That's all anyone wants from me. And once that gets old, I go away. Isn't that simple? You get to tell your friends I gave you the time of day and I get to deal with being abandoned and put back into a life I do not want but don't think I can break away from. And what will happen when I'm no longer beautiful? Maybe I'll be married and still alone like the women I see everyday, the mothers of children that don't see daddy because he is so "busy." Maybe I'll be alone, Director of This or CEO of That, going home every night to nothing but an empty palace. And either way, people will look at me, and say how lucky I am. They see the queen.

I like to think Catherine the Great and Elizabeth the I had exboyfriends like you. I like to think that there is life beyond this moment, beyond this endless saga that has become this awful experience. I like to think they were like me, good at forgetting what they didn't want to remember. I like to think we could have been friends, then we aren't really alone at all, just misplaced. I'd go to England or to Russia and tell them I understood. That I know what it's like to be somewhere you were born into and can't get out of. That I know what it is like to have everything and nothing at the same time. That I see them; the women who's "greatness" inspired my name, women who's loneliness became outshone by their accomplishments; who's sadness had no name. I look at their portraits now and see sad women. And even if no one else understood for years, I do. I see them. They matter to me even if no one else ever cared, and if I could, I'd have given them all the attention in the world. I'd listen because no one listens to me, either. If I could, I'd hug the 9 year old I was who no one ever held, I'd go to the funeral with the 14 year old I had to be. I'd understand that she wasn't nearly as strong as everyone thought she was. That she was a little girl like the others; only with so much expectation of more. If I could, I'd save her from becoming me. I tell that child she was not worthless, she mattered. I tell her she deserved to be loved and cherished just like any other little girl. I'd tell her her family didn't deserve her, and that her friend didn't die in vain. I'd hold her for hours. I'd tell her it was ok to be vulnerable and human, I'd tell her it was ok that she wasn't perfect. I'd tell her it wasn't her fault she wasn't what her parents wanted, that they don't matter. I'd tell her she didn't have to die with that friend. I'd make her believe she counted. I'd let her know she is not worthless.

But I can't do that. Just like you couldn't love the woman she became.

You didn't see me. All I've ever wanted you couldn't give. And you've no idea what this meant to me, and may never understand. Is that all?