My English Teacher Asked us to Describe a Friend’s Face, Hands, and Heart. This work is considered exceptional by our editorial staff.

This is what I remember of her: long, naturally highlighted blonde hair either pulled back in a ponytail with a braid or down framing her pale face in slight waves. Brown frames on her square-shaped glasses, slightly creased Irish light grey-blue eyes shining behind them above her small nose and small, smiling mouth. Her lips are pink, her cheeks rosy from the cold and natural coloring. Her features are soft on her slightly round face, her smile modestly beautiful. Her voice is accented, friendly, open, it almost seems slightly cautious or questioning when she says certain things. Her laugh is pure and contagious. She is tall and smart, enthusiastic about what she likes. Her hands are pale like her face, the skin is soft, and her fingers are a little slender. You look at them; they look unscarred unless small marks are pointed out. She is friendly and helpful, confident and determined. Inside, she is open-minded, funny, enjoys a good time, is mostly carefree. As of late, I know things might be changing and she is suffering from depression and other darker thoughts, but the way I remember her she seemed immune to that. I guess inside her there was a breaking point, like we all have, that wasn’t as deep or had been violently broken. Inside she may be insecure, not sure of what to do next, struggling with school or friends or life at home. The previous version of her was confident but still a little insecure, and took comfort in friends and fun. She did her best, but it tired her and she wished she didn’t have to work as hard to just get by. She wished her younger siblings would be a tad less of an annoying burden to her. She gets by, but life is different for her, I cannot describe it as a foreigner. What I have described is what I believe I know. This girl I do not entirely know, and I did not entirely know her when she was closer as a friend and by distance. I made the mistake last summer of not trying to learn more about her as much as I could’ve when I visited. The girl I’ve described I do not know, but she sounds like me. She projected her confidence to her outside, and so do I. We are both insecure but didn’t and don’t talk about it. We do not know each other, but we do the same thing. I hope I can see her again, help her, learn more about her, and let her know that I think we are similar inside if not on the outside.






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