I never turned heads when I entered a room; my presence was a breeze that you felt but never saw. I was a shape always hidden behind a book. Boys never looked at me the way they looked at my friends. If they did, it was usually by accident.
My mom would refuse to take me anywhere unless I covered little parts of my face with make-up, if not all of it.
I used to cry in front of the mirror after everyone was fast asleep. I had forgotten what I had looked like; the acne had become my face. My eyebrows and glasses hid my only features that I used to think were beautiful. At times, I wished I could take a knife and cut off my skin. Maybe then, everyone will finally be able to see what is inside, and not what is out.
As I grew older my face started to change and I quickly realized, I had become many things at once.
I am the pretty girl; you refuse to take your eyes off me, and yet, you never actually see me. I am the “meh, she’s alright” girl; you see me, but only when you need to notice me. I am the invisible, ugly girl; you don’t even know I exist, until you’ve seen my heart.
But I am also the smart girl; I can make all your problems disappear because I learned to solve all my sh*t on my own. I am the funny girl; I will make you laugh until you cry because I smiled through all my tears. I am the mean girl; if your opinion of me is measured by my face, my coldness for you will be taken from your heart.
You know my cover, but you have to do more than open the book to know my story.
My eyes are not the windows to my soul; the way they perceive the world is. The smile on my lips is not fake because the words coming out of them are real. I am not trying to be sexy when I wear my hair long. They have always been my shield.
Maybe you’re right. I don’t fit in. That’s only because I don’t want to belong in a group; I want to stand out. I don’t meet your criteria; I live by my own standards.
Don’t hate me because I don’t look how you want me to look. Hate me if I try too hard to look that way.
You don’t need to understand me. You don’t even have to accept me. But you do need to respect me.
Show me respect. I did nothing wrong to hurt you, nor will I ever, even though you have hurt me enough already. Show me courtesy. If you need me, I promise to be there for you, despite how quick you were to turn on me. Show me decency. Our faces don’t match, but underneath we are the same.
The only difference is, my soul only had eyes for your soul, and yours only had eyes for my face.