the story of a girl

This is the story of a girl who thought she was beyond ordinary, who thought she was above everything, above all else. A girl who thought she could have everything she wanted, be anything she wished to be, do everything in one minute everything a person could do in an entire lifetime. This is a story of a girl who thought she found herself. A story of a girl who only thought...
She had swollen pimples that colored like the late rays of the afternoon sun, hair that scattered like the grasses in a California valley. She had the lips that spoke lies that were white as the clouds she loved to watch in windy mornings, the hands that wrote the world she thought she belonged to. She had eyes that were as black as the 3:00 light that made her restless, as deep as the waters she thought she could swim, and as untrue as a two year-old telling her mother about her fairy friends.

She smiled with love and joy, her pain and hatred all lurking behind, screaming for her to let them out, wishing she would finally accept them as her own. She laughed with easiness, as if wishing it could free her. She wrote stories that weren't her own and spoke of truths that didn't exist. She was a liar, a faker, a poser, someone unreal, invisible and imaginary.

She didn't exist in the real world.

Nobody really knew who she was, what she wanted or where she's going. She's just a sad, lonely girl stealing the dreams of other people, fooling herself that she could make herself happy, that she was good enough, that she was real. But she isn't, she might never be... She just sits there, dreaming of the rain, wishing it could make her disappear, wishing she could fall and have somebody to catch her. But nobody ever will. Because nobody knows where she is. Nobody.

She would close her eyes and keep her tears from falling. She would open them, hoping she could see someone that would look back and find her. She would let herself get lost in her dreams, a world so full of colorful lies and wonderful treachery that it was impossible for her to leave it.

She hoped of meeting people that could one day discover her. People who would see through her walls and are willing enough to break them just to see her, just to see how beautiful she really is. But as every second passes, that hope of ever finding herself gets further and further. Someday, it will go too far that nobody, not even herself, will remember it. And she'll be locked up forever. Undiscovered and unloved.

One day she will find herself walking along the seashores, the sound of the sea deafening her into silence, the sun blinding her into perpetual joy that she would think that she had finally found somewhere to belong. One day she will smile with the truth, laugh that would finally set her free. One day she would find herself dancing in the rain, while taking someone's hand and hearing the words "I love you"

One day she will soar to the sky and fall like a meteor, waiting for beautiful calloused hands to catch her. One day she will stand in a stage and tell the people the truth. One day she will hold a pen and a paper and write a story that she would call hers. One day, she will find the courage to destroy the walls that she built, and be able to finally cry with a reason. That day will come, that I am sure.

And when that day finally comes, she would look at herself in the mirror and be happy for the first time and tell herself, "I am good enough"