There's more than meets the eye

November 19, 2009
By Anonymous

Blue eyes, framed with thick dark lashes. Fine curls of blonde hair tumbling down around an ivory-skinned face, lips the color of a bleeding sky and cheeks flushed with pink. Your gaze travels from her pretty face to her curvy frame- broad shoulders, long ivory arms, a full bust and an hourglass waist. Her hips are narrow and her legs are slim, yet her feet are to big for her so she gives off the impression of a puppy tripping over his own feet. Her limpid eyes are almost always darting across the pages of a book, her long-fingered hands holding it close to her narrow nose. When she puts down the book, eyes still averting that of anyone else's, no one talks to her. At lunch after she throws away the remnants of her vegetarian bean and cheese burrito, she nods to other people's conversations and attempts to chime in with her silver-toned voice but always gets cut off by someone louder. She's always the last person picked for partner work, the last person standing awkwardly in line as the team captains argue over who gets stuck with her. She floats like a ghost through the hallways, blending into the nondescript white paint of the cinderblock walls. No one thinks she might have a good opinion on anything, she's just the smart girl in English class who has her hand raised to answer every question (correctly) before anyone else. She's the girl wearing black in contrast to her ivory skin, the girl who whispers instead of shouts.
The saddest thing of all? I can empathize with this nameless character... because I am her.

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