To You, my secret.

Looking in the mirror I realize that I am the same girl, with the blonde hair and blue eyes; if I’d have to point out a difference it would be that my soul is more broken and my aura is murkier than it was last time I saw you. Not that you’d notice anyways, you were never one to really notice me.  You would just look right at me with that, I-cant-like-you-so-I’ll-enjoy-looking-at-you look in your eyes. I always wondered why you even bothered, you knew I could see right through you but you still looked and the startled look that went through your eyes when I smiled that yeah-I-know-what-you’re-all-about smile. Society, meaning the high school crowd, didn’t approve of you looking at me, I was just a loser and you were…well…the guy everyone simply loved and you even had one of those preppy, girlfriends, so why did you look at me?? You’d stare at me from across the lunch room and when I’d catch your eyes with mine you’d turn about 50 shades of red upon red and quickly look at your girlfriend applying her 10 dollar lip gloss. What made you wait so long to break away from your crowd of designer clothes wearing, polo cologne spraying, so-called friends?  You were afraid to be laughed at, afraid to be made fun of because I don’t conform to the Abercrombie and Fitch model-like girls; I prefer my clothes with out the designer labels that try to make the crappy fabric that should have been thrown out, worth something. Is that what you were afraid of, for them to think of you the same way as I see those clothes??