I pity her.
She has the physique of a beauty queen.
No, I am not jealous.
Not at all.
She has the evil glare.
The look that taints her complexion.
She has mastered the look.
An innocent doe meets the devil.
She lived the high school dream.
My nightmare.
She believes high school still lingers.
Popular, pretty…
Powerful.
The power that can make one wrong move be the death of reputation.
She wipes under her flawless, aqua eyes.
MAC Kohl.
The familiar eyeliner.
Dark and rich, but easily smudged.
The same blackness ran across my face.
I used to be her.
The same egotistical thoughts invaded my mind.
‘I’m too good for them.’
Power comes with a price though.
No true friends.
Meaning no friends at all.
She may look the part,
But only on the outside.
Her insides are dying,
Dying for companionship.
She does not know any better.
Her insides are pleading;
Pleading for long midnight conversations about nothing.
Pleading for inside jokes.
Pleading for secrets that do more good than harm.
Pleading for sleepovers and the talk of crushes.
Pleading for a shoulder to cry on.
Pleading for laughter that intertwines with the tears.
Pleading for a real best friend.
What her insides plead for remain a mystery to her.
The misery will overcome her.
She will recognize high school is no more.
For some, it was hell because of her.
For her, worse, because of herself.
She has no awareness of her pain.
The reality will hit hard.
I pity her.
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