I still love that girl on the other side. I’ve known her for twenty odd years- the messy hair, dark eyes, a forgettable face to most people, perhaps. I’ve always found it beautiful. So have a select few others. I’ve never voiced it out loud, what’s the point? People wouldn’t really agree, but then they’d smile and say yes, the way they do when they try to encourage individuality.
She’s not the kind of girl you’d notice first, or even second, she always gets picked last, as she once laughingly told me. She doesn’t do things the way they should be done, even though she can. “You like me, don’t you?”, she asks. “Yes. Yes I do.”
“Then I don’t need to change to fit their ways.” she grins. That smile has been losing its shine these days. Or maybe I just haven’t cleaned the mirror in a long time.