He stares at me as if I I had three heads, or were speaking pig latin, as I walk past. He wasn't the first to look at me like that today, though my response is still the same; refraining from tearing one's head off in a very public place. Maybe its my resting bitch face, me overall-No, nothings wrong with the way I look; I'm gorgeous as hell. He's the one who needs his eyes adjusted-and I knew just how to do that, I smirk, his ID trapped between my fingertips. A slip unnoticed by him, with how dull minded the human race is.
I used to be a better person; volunteered, all that crap. Was a complete pushover, until I was pushed to the edge. He pushed me. Then I met a certain blue eyed devil who made everything better, what I was lacking found.