Jane was extraordinarily ordinary.
She looked happy when she was happy and looked sad when she was sad. She smiled when there was something to smile about and cried when she needed to.
She had no special talent whatsoever but she did write a little. A short story here, a poem there. Sometimes she sang to herself, sometimes she danced, sometimes she played the piano but, only just a little.
She aced a few tests, never did she fail one. She did what she ought to do and said what she ought to say. If you asked her, she’ll say that she’s lied a number of times in her lifetime but, no one ever believed her. Because no one ever thought that Jane could pretend.
Jane was simple and honest. Her looks were humble, she was never singled out. You'll always see the crowd but you’ll never only see her. Because she was just Jane. Plain and simple Jane.
So when Jane fell in love for the first time, she didn’t know what to do. She smiled and cried and blushed and sighed but she couldn’t figure out why. “It’s because of a boy, Jane!,” everyone wished to tell her. But, they were frightened. What will happen to their favorite plain ‘ol Jane, their innocent Jane who makes their tainted lives seem worthwhile?
So they kept it secret. Confused, Jane was confused. What she ought to do? What she ought to say? She can’t even figure out the simplest things anymore.
By the time they told Jane, Jane wasn’t just plain ‘ol Jane anymore. She was broken Jane, scarred Jane, traumatized Jane.
And then they tell themselves,
Maybe Jane wasn’t so simple afterall.