Them. | Teen Ink


September 23, 2011
By not.that.girl BRONZE, Troy, Michigan
not.that.girl BRONZE, Troy, Michigan
1 article 2 photos 37 comments

Favorite Quote:
My words fly up, my thoughts remain below.
Words without thought never to heaven go.

You know who they are. They live among you. Learn among you. Exist. You may not know they are there, or else, you are blindly incapable of recognizing just who exactly they are. I hate them, personally. I'll bet you hate them, too. Or at least, most of them.

The boys of Them are all right. They tend to act like Abercrombie models. Sitting around, almost posing, with a look somewhere between bored and sexy plastered on their faces. Or they argue about shoes. Either way, it's the girls that you have to watch out for.

Their girls are the ones who pollute our existence with obnoxious froufrou skirts and Ugg boots. You deny them. Or at least, you pretend to, just to make yourself believe that you're cool enough to ignore them. Because it's hard. You've gotta be tough to evade it. Them.

For a while, you played along. Everyone knew them. Everyone wanted to be them, so you did to. You ran out to the mall, bought up your Uggs, your Abercrombie--or was it Hollister? You snatched up the Covergirl standard mascara and eyeliner. Lip gloss. A fancy Pink bra. Under the hypnotic influence of them, you wore your Abercombie skinny jeans with your Pink hoodie, pink Sperrys on your feet. The rest crammed into your Vera Bradley tote. You become one of them. The weeks go by. You feel special, popular. Weeks become months, months become years.
Strutting down the school hallways, your white Uggs pulled over your Lululemon leggings softly padding on the linoleum, you pass a group of girls. Every single one sports the same outfit. The same one as you.

And then it hits you.

This isn't what you want. You slam out the school doors. You head to the mall. You buy anything that doesn't look like a Forever 21 dress, or Hollister jeans, or Abercrombie sweats.

You carefully select cherry red lipstick, that fancy mascara that supposedly makes you look like an angel. Pull on a pair of UO yellow skinny jeans and black leather combat boots. Returning to school, you see everything more clearly. You see how obvious they really are. And how pathetic. More importantly, you see how obviously different they are from you.

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