She had the life everybody wanted: Things always went her way; she had plenty of friends - beyond what she could ask for; she had a pleasant personality; people liked her; she did well in school; she never got in trouble; so on, so on the list goes. But life was like that for the beautiful, anyway. You were either born lucky or not. Life's like that.
She was one who was born lucky, being born beautiful. In fact, she was very very lucky, because she was wildlybeyondimagination gorgeous. It was natural that people often swooned in covet at that sight of her. They'd often cry, oh! how fortunate are you to be born so pretty, and oh! how fortunate are you to be born so pretty, then spend the next few seconds staring at her face and lament how damned they were to be been born ever so hideous: "Look at my nose! it's so flat and ugly; if only I had yours... if only..." except, it wasn't actually the nose that they cared about. And even if people never used her to criticize themselves, she'd still receive compliments aplenty; The words "stunning", "gorgeous", "pretty", "hot", "good-looking", "striking", "attractive", "exquisite" and other broadly synonymous adjectives were so often pinned and pasted to her name that it was hard to think of her as anything else.
But that was the problem, you see. Nobody thought of her as anything else. Nobody could, of course, because they had always busied themselves with admiring her immaculate glory. She was Beautiful, the perfect being, and everybody wanted to know her. But nobody wanted to know her. People simply glazed over her picture-worthy, Darly'd smiles and never really noticed that it was pained - that she was silently calling, pining, begging to be known as what she really was - an identity of her own, a feeling self - and not merely what she seemed to be. But... but you know what yourself. You know.
But you don't know. This was her true fate, unknown to the gazing eye, to be forever trapped behind that face. She could not escape it. She had the life everybody else wanted.
Monday, August 11
that pretty girl
Labels:
Short Stories,
Thoughts
9 comments:
you wrote this with *BEEP* in mind is it hahahaha.
kwong.
oh.... so the girl u like is BEEP la?????? u thinks she very pretty is it...????
Kwong: Read below.
Anonymous: Yes I shall finally confess: I am fiercely in love with BEEPING sounds, though she isn't really "girl" per se. She's the only one for me. She's goddess-beautiful to my ears and my heart always falls flat out of my chest each time I hear her. I've even hyperventilated twice from entertaining thoughts about her for too long. Just between the whole internet and me, I'll admit that I fancy breaking into cars on a regular basis just to hear the alarm go off (specifically those cars with BEEPING alarm systems - gawd it's orgasmiccccc) and I also enjoy being intrusive like that.
Now that this is all out and in the open I shall declare my affections for my beloved tonight with a serenade in the carpark. There's no stopping me.
*Begins to passionately write obsessive-romantic poetry*
you're talking about economia, your arabian princess right! :D
Oh noooo. You got it all wrong. Economia was never a Arabian princess. She was just my decoy girlfriend so that nobody would ever know that I was a closet-BEEP lover.
DECOY?! oh man..economia must be heartbroken!
btw..does BEEP have a brother i could get to know too? :D
Actually, BEEP has many many siblings. You just need to open your ears to the world around you and you'll hear the many beautiful things around. That's how I fell for BEEP. *Tingles in the ears.*
ohmyohmy. i just heard the most handsome BEEP on this television program...everything the guy was speaking was all angry ramble, then suddenly BEEP!
I GET WHAT YOU MEAN NOW! *faints*
Oh you like you men coarse and vulgar? Like the beefy construction worker type.
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