You hated her almost instantly. The first time you met her you could tell there was something about her that didn't sit well with you, before you'd even said a word. But then, there was also something about her that was alluring, that had pulled you to start a conversation despite that strange feeling in the pit of your stomach. You're not sure why, but this girl scared you, and fear was not an emotion you were used to.
The second time you saw her, you knew you hated her. You didn't even speak to her, but then, you didn't need to. She was going for your look, but she was wearing it well. No, she was wearing it better and that really pissed you off. Nobody wore things better than you did. Nobody did things better than you did. Okay, maybe some people did some things better than you did, but you'd never admit that to anybody but yourself. The point was, she wasn't supposed to look better than you. Nobody was supposed to look better than you.
But even with the fiery pit of burning hatred for her, you still felt yourself drawn to her, though you resisted the very confusing temptation of approaching her again. Instead you found your friends. They would make you feel better. They always did, though they didn't know it most of the time.
By the end of the night, you were exhausted, though nobody would know. You were tired of pretending you were okay. Tired of avoiding her. Tired of the constant pull in her direction. Tired of keeping up appearances, but you did it anyway. You plastered the fake smile on your face, pretending to be your normal self, but you weren't. Not that night, anyway. There was something different about you, but you couldn't for the life of you figure out what it was.
Don't ask me how I know all this; I wouldn't be able to tell you. I just do.
What do you think? Please review!
So I used three pronouns in this you, I, and her. Who do you think they refer to?
