This is perhaps how someone would describe my pathetic waste of life...

Crying With A Smile

She is someone that when passed by on the street, looks down. Someone nobody notices. She is lowered ranked than any other, which is why she at all costs must avoid eye contact, with anyone. Her place is at the bottom of the food chain, the pyramid of power - what ever you would like to call it.

Her long brown hair, uncombed and wuthered by wind, is what shields her from the world. Here eyes are tired from keeping every tear inside. She looks sleepy or drugged, but is wide awake. However she is not with us - in some sence, that is.

You can see her staring intensly into nothing - the sky, a flowerbed, a wall. Collecting deep thoughts.

She never speaks, unless she feels forced to respond to something. Somone. Then she will say as much as possible, with as few a words she can. Allways busy thinking - she sometimes finds it hard to hear the world around her. Almost deaf sometimes, because she is in a state where the rest of the world does not matter. The world means pain, and she has had enough.

Through the years she has become a master of disguising her own feelings. Nothing will ever go her whay, so why even make a stand, a statement of some sort? Why appose the hell that she is allways facing, when it's so much easier to walk the route of apathy?

She has managed to get a friend, in her own mind there is no reason behind it. No sence. The girls can talk about anything - but she does not give hints concerning her own state of mind. Her sorrow, loneliness and depression are secrets, never ment to face daylight. Some day it will go away. Some day, so she must stay alive until that day comes. Suicide is tempting, but not an option.

Sometimes she smiles. A fun thought occurs in her head. Clearly she must hide her smiles, wouldn't want people to think she's crazy, but when she's alone there is no existing fear of showing teeth.

Her laughter is a chamelion, with as many shades as colours in a rainbow. Insecure and cautious around strangers. Subtile and quiet with acquaintances. Her honest laugh is high and dark - sends an immediate smile to any listener. A laugh like that of her deceased brother - the one they do not talk about. So she keeps it hidden inside of her. With all other forbidden things. Luckily she slips up sometimes, as a human being she is bound to do so. You can compare her laughter with sunbeams shooting their way through a rainy cloud.

Music is not far from being the only joy she has right now. When she is sure no one is around, she taps the beat with her hands, sings along - she might even do a little dance if she feels up for it. But every sound disappears by the knocking on the door or by the steps coming from the hallway.

The fast way to rescue, salvation, would be finding love. A challenge for anyone, but especially her. She can barely gather up the courage to step outside the front door on an ordinary day. She is even afraid of leaving her room, her safe cage, sometimes. So she uses the computer. A pathetic attempt to find someone special. Her only option in her conflicted mind. Trapped into a circle of self destructive thoughts. Not pretty enough. Not thin enough. Not exiting enough. Too afraid. Too quiet. Too self absorbed. Dumb. Unnormal. Unwanted. If she want's somebody they must love her for that. All her flaws. And the mission becomes increasingly difficult.

Signing on at multiple websites. "The Love Connection", online. She sees the pictures of others. Too good for me, too good for me, too good for me. Oh, well - let's give it a try. The worst thing he can do is reject her - she has been rejected so many times before. Isn't that part of her turned to stone yet? No - but no risk, no fun. No pain, no gain.

Little by little she lets on who she is. Chat after chat. Bits and pieces. Eager to get to know this new boy. Maybe he will fall for her. She puts all her hopes in him. Revealing both the good and the bad. Her history. Her state of mind.

It's a game of chance. Maybe some day some one might fall for her, at least like her. More than just a friend. She hopes. She smiles.

Short story by Tiffany
Read 1276 times
Written on 2007-04-02 at 21:59

Tags Love  Anxiety  Depression 

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Thank you =) This is my favorite one at the moment, as a matter of fact.

How sweet, sad and innocent!

But I must say, I feel compelled to tell you that no life, even yours, is a waiste.

Keep up the good writing :)

this beautiful poems very good write..
well done
Love, Yummy_guy