P*R*ETTY
I am not a pretty girl. In the basic sense of the word pretty, I am miles away from its definition. I do not have the stereotypical qualities of what you would call a pretty girl- long and silky hair, plump pink lips, innocent round eyes, a pointy nose. Nor do i have distinct features that will make me stand out in a crowd and people will call pretty. In a sea of people I neither blend in nor stand out because I merely melt away within the shadows and sheltered away from each and everyone’s judging eyes.
But if you’ll ask me if I wanted to be called a pretty girl- the answer would be yes, I would be lying if I deny it and I would not deprive myself of wishing to be the pretty girl even for just a fraction of a second. But I do not just want to be called a pretty girl- I wanted to be more than that, to be someone more than pretty. And although I tell myself it’s okay not to be pretty I think I am merely saying that to compensate for the fact that I am not one. The more I tell this to myself, the more the words become blurred out and eventually fade into nothing. I have been repeating this to myself way too many times that I’ve started to become immune to its moral and what I only perceive is an incoherent slur of sounds and an abstract image that makes your eyes strained is what come to mind.
I do veer away from the superficiality of the world but its hard when it revolves around it. Making friends is easier when your pretty, getting the approval of people is easier when your pretty- I do not want to be stuck in the confines of seeking validation from others but life is much more easier when your the pretty girl