Pretty Eyed

July 14, 2010
By Anonymous

“She’s beautiful,” I mumbled, avoiding his eyes. His dark, brown eyes.

“Hannah…,” He whispered, gathering my hands in his. I still didn’t look at him.

“Just go. See her. I’m fine, I’ll be fine,” I said, taking my hands back from him. He sighed.

“Fine isn’t an emotion. You are fine, in that you’re fine and beautiful, in that you’re delicate, in that you’re very talented, in that you’re the greatest girl I’ve ever met-”

“If I’m so fine why are you sneaking around with her?” I asked, angry, finally looking him in the eyes. His dark, brown, eyes. I bit my lip. He had fine eyes.

“So you admit you aren’t feeling fine,” He said, and I glared at him.

“Look, its done. We’re done, and now you can be with her. She’s pretty, I understand. Just go,” I said, turning to leave.

“Hannah, look at me,” He said, and I shook my head.





I didn’t respond. She was beautiful, the other girl. She had big, bright, green eyes. They were dark green too, and there were flecks of gold in her eyes. My eyes weren’t pretty like that.

“Hannah, I don’t love her!”

“Then why did you cheat?” I asked. sighing. I don’t like the word ‘cheat’. It makes love seem like a silly game, where if someone is unfaithful, they are ‘cheating’ the rules of the game. Scoring extra. Gaining bonus points for two, or more, at once.

“Because…I…,” He trailed off, looking me right in the eyes. My eyes.

“I knew it,” I spat, turning around to leave.


“My eyes!” I screamed, turning to look at him. I stared directly into his eyes, making sure he was looking at both of mine, “My eyes.”

“This has nothing to do with your eyes,” He said, fumbling, embarrassed, with his hands. Embarrassment was just another word for cowardice. He wouldn’t even look at me. I hated that. I hated how wimpy he was. Everyone was always like this when they first saw or talked about my eyes. It was like being in a wheelchair or having a defect- everyone tried to ignore it and tried to treat you ‘special’.

“They’re mismatched. Like us,” I hissed, and he stood. frozen, “Just admit it.”
He didn’t say a single word.

“Sometimes saying nothing says it all,” I murmured, leaving. He didn’t call me back. He would go back to that girl, the pretty one, with the matching green eyes.

I walked all the way home, avoiding eye contact with anyone, wishing desperately people didn’t have to stare. Its so rude to stare, especially when your eyes match.

My little sister was playing with her dolls when I came home. She had a blue marker in her hand, drawing on one of them.

“Isn’t that your favorite?” I asked, watching her. She smiled.

“Yeah, I’m making her pretty!” She said, giggling happily.

“Really? Don’t you think she’s pretty already?” I asked, sitting down next to her.

“Yeah…but she’s normal-pretty. She’s not…beautiful. She’s just like everyone else,” She said, shrugging. That was when I realized what she was doing. I snatched the doll away, trying to rub the damage done by the marker off it’s face.

“Hey! Don’t do that! Stop it!” She cried, clawing for me to return her doll.

“Why did you do that? You’re ruining her! She’s your favorite!” I asked, still rubbing away. The dolls right brown eye was covered in bright, blue marker. Non-washable marker.

“I wanted her to have special eyes, like you,” She murmured, and I looked at her, suddenly, unjustly angry.

“No one wants eyes like this. They’re a liability, not an asset,” I muttered, throwing the ruined doll back to her.

“I want eyes like yours. I think they’re beautiful. You’re so lucky. Some girls want brown eyes that have blue ones, and some girls with brown eyes want blue ones, and you get both. I’m stuck with boring, matching, brown ones,” She said, crossing her arms as she finished. She pinched her little face, as if she’d somehow been ripped off, and I couldn’t help but smile.

“I think you’re eyes are fine.”

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