Tuesday, 5 August 2014

The Girl

"She walked like her world was moving with her. It wasn't that she didn't know where she was going, rather that she knew exactly where, that scared her. The girl, like any other, had hair on her head and in other places she didn't wish to mention. She thrived to be known and loved, and like every other girl, she wanted to be cared for. She had curves on her sides, and bones on her cheeks and a heart that beat a little faster when someone called her name. She never spoke, but just you ask her about the weather last night and she'll tell you all about it. Ask her about the most boring of things, and trust me when I say she'll have an answer. She, like any other girl, wore high heals that didn't fit right and a necklace that didn't belong to her. The girl was special, don't you doubt it, but she was just as special as any other girl. 
What she never knew is that she didn't think like other girls, didn't walk like them, didn't talk like them. She never liked to gossip and she never liked to laugh too loud. She sat with her legs to her side and a book in her hand, but unlike all the other girls holding a book to impress the boy that read- she actually knew what the book in her hand was. The girl was tall, but not in height. The girl was happy, but not in heart. She could tell you all about the weather last night, even if you didn't ask. She could tell you about how the moon looked at night, how the wind blew to the east and how she never saw the clouds so white. She could tell you, but you never asked her. No one ever asks a girl about the weather. They'd rather ask her to a movie, buy her a paper ticket, popped salted corn, throw her a few compliments and tell her all about how you want her to meet your parents. 
You never asked the girl her favorite color, to which she'd reply, 'ginger'. You never asked the girl about her favorite type of music, to which she'd reply, 'anything with a good piano background'. You never asked the girl if she liked the way you looked at her from the side of the room, or the way your eyes met on the way to your soccer practice, or the way you laughed at her joke once, to which she'd reply, 'yeah, it was pretty cool'. 
You never asked her if she's insecure, because you assumed she's like all the other girls who pretend they are. You never asked her about her favorite meal, because you assumed like all other girls, she preferred a salad. You never asked her anything really, because you thought she didn't have a voice of her own. The girl spoke, she spoke loud and clear. She didn't mumble, and she didn't even like the 'f' word, and she, to this day, kept a track of how many times she's said it already. And I'm sure, if you even bothered to ask, she'd giggle and sigh '45 times,' 
She may own a skirt like all other girls, laugh like all other girls, dance around her room like all other girls, fight with her brothers like all other girls, sing like no one's watching like all other girls, scream when no one's listening like all other girls, believe that she's beautiful on the inside, watch Fashion Week on television, laugh at stupid pick up lines, tell the post man good morning on her way to school, wear socks in summer, turn the cooler up in winter, and dye her hair red because it's fun like all other girls. 

You may have met so many other girls, but how many of them can tell you about the weather last night? Probably none. But this girl can. This girl can make your heart flow like the milky way, and your eyes sparkle like stars, and your arms want to stretch out like the sun's sharp rays just so you can just a brighter look. How many girls can talk about the weather like this girl?"

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