UNBEAUTIFUL-------x
------x because every girl wants to be pretty , and she's no exception. NAMINE----.
apply standard kh disclaimer here.
& of which uncapslocks are intentional.
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there is nothing she gets.
like how things first started when she goes to school with orange glasses sitting nerdily on the bridge of her nose, and her hair's neatly pulled back into a ponytail. she lugs textbooks close to her chest, pink backpack sitting softly on her back as she pats her long skirt down. she loves the way her tresses bounce against her back. she feels comfortable as she walks to class, even when she hears sounds and laughter of "oh, it's the nerd geek girl again" along the way, and paper planes sail into her direction, poking into her cheeks sometimes as she flails her hands to push them away.
she hates them, but she stands them because she loves herself.
she opens her locker and sees the reflection. ugly face, pasty cheeks, the unloved one. amidst skin and flesh, the backdrop of high school jeers and horrible taunts play out. she gets used to them eventually, fingers the middle of her orange glasses and decide everything's going to be okay if she's herself. they don't need to love her, and she's alright alone. she likes being the bespectacled one, and she knows changing herself, changing who she sees in the mirror is just going to take a long, long time to get used to. . . and she'll miss raising her hand in class to eagerly answer teachers' questions, the hasty pace she scurries down to jot notes sometimes----
. . . it can be fun being a geek sometimes.
(you just ought to learn how to love yourself a little more when others don't.)
she doesn't remember anymore how there is that day when she wakes up, stares horrified at the girl in the mirror, and breaks apart the hairtie and shatters her glasses and drops her textbooks----for high heels, for skimpy outfits, for bright neon colors that make her stand out, for loud chatters, for gossips, for those materialisic perspectives, for having her grades dropping to zero . . .
and they love her.
she perms her hair. strawberry blonde. pretty. she's beautiful. they notice how she's got a body she never shows often. her hair's smooth like silk --- "you should have worn that down a long time ago. . .and oh, those eyes. they're so pretty! you should have switched to contacts from the start!"
by the seventh day, she grows uncomfortable with the idea that she no longer finds the reflection in the mirror familiar -----
she opens her locker, stares hard at the shadow ---- shadow .
grimaces.
so much make-up.
she misses . . .
. . . pasty face, orange glasses, bad hair days, the feeling of textbooks against her chest, the sound of sneakers squeaking against white-washed floors ----
she doesn't remember comfort very much anymore.
"you're lovely, you know that? you look stunning. absolutely." for the first time, boys approach her, rake fingers through her hair.
disgusts churn, stronger than ever.
she steps away from the locker mirror, and pastes a hand to her face, eyes huge.
(it hits her----they love her, but she is lonelier than ever----
because she doesn't know who she is anymore, and one can't love oneself when there is not the same person there in the first place to love. . . )
and who is she supposed to love? the one in the mirror, when all she wants to shout to her is "what have you done to me?"
---the next day, she ties her hair up, puts back her orange glasses, and makes a perfect score for her Math test.
they call her a geek again. the pointing fingers returns.
but it doesn't feel so lonely anymore, not when she can smile into the mirror and say. . .
"hello again, my best friend. I've missed you."
and it takes only one second to get used to being unbeautiful all over again.
owari------;;;