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Perfection

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She was the perfect girl. Her perfectly toned skin glowed in the sunlight during the summer. Her long and elegant legs still showed an intriguing figure. Her green eyes pierced every person she looked at, yet portrayed a soft and dove like charisma. Her aggressively straight blond hair shone with health. Her makeup was applied with great caution to ensure no imperfections, yet it looked careless. Her pearl white teeth sat in her mouth, covered by her plump pink lips compressing the straw to her diet vanilla Coke. She was surrounded by people that loved her. Her two best friends, her typical teenage dream of a boyfriend, and her sister. Well that’s what she thought. Inside, the people she thought loved her most were full of hatred and ignorance. She was a nice girl, but it didn’t show. When she lent you a pencil in science, or helped you out on your math homework, she beamed with happiness and only emanated joy. When she was with her friends she didn’t let it all out. When she was sitting next to her boyfriend she as calm and collective. Her friends didn’t like her. Why? She was just unaware. Unaware to the slightly hurtful comments thrown at her peers. Unaware of the image she portrayed. Yet, she was perfect.She was the ideal teenage girl. How can someone with that much hate in their lives still be that composed? That perfect. That beautiful.





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