eyes that see, but are not seen

there's one to the left, and another to the right. take a few more steps and another walks down the same street in my direction. I’m in the city. The city that never sleeps, and the place that gathers people from all over the country. Beautiful people, specifically, as society labels them. Some have brown eyes, others blue, but all with eyelashes perfectly curled and shimmering eyelids glamorously painted. They’re all dressed in suits or pretty dresses that are made by fabric so soft and light and are embraced by the wind as it passes them by. The boys have gravity defying hair that make them seem as if they have been in a convertible that was moving at 200km/h for an hour straight. Not that it’s messy, but it lifts the dullness out of a masculine face and creates more ingenuity, and give themselves a spirit of fiesta. The ladies on the other hand defy another aspect of nature. Their once naturally brown, black or blonde head of hair now consist of red, pink and even blue streaks or extra curls to boost its volume and cause them to shine above the crowd and the bright neon lights.

The eyes that absorb their surroundings, but definitely not belonging to even the most abandoned corner of it. The eyes that see are covered by straight black hair and with a gaze that is fixed to the ground. They garner a the attention of some, I garner the attention of some. Those ‘some’, who wonder how a person so out dated and without a proper sense of fashion could actually find her way here. Those ‘some’, who at first glance determine in their hearts never to befriend an obnoxious person as I.

I’ll never be part of that glamour and attraction. Not for all the money in the world. Too short, too fat, too thin a make up, too bright a combination of clothes, too ugly a pair of shoes. All these ridiculous standards created by society that people adhere to so religiously. I’ll never be part of what the world looks on as good. ‘cos I’m smarter than the world, and everyone in it is jealous. Ha.