Cr0oked.Butterfli__x
September 14th, 2005, 12:55 PM
To Be Real
Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.
She was waiting. Waiting for the alarm to ring, and the day to begin. Waiting to slip back into her mask, and prepared to begin helping people, comforting friends and listening to problems of everyone except her own that were screaming out so loudly yet so silently, begging someone to see into her glass world and see how fractured she really was.
Her arched feet padded across the cold stone floor and she stared at herself in the full length mirror. Wearing only a pair of ebony silk pyjama bottoms and a thin sleeveless top her pale complexion was on full view to no one really but her reflection - just as all the tears she had cried had only been visible to herself - thin silvery scars mark the top of her arms where she had used to scold and burn herself with a hot wire, however that release had been found out and stopped.
People assumed now she was fine, that everything was good; but didn’t they understand you don’t change that quickly and you can’t force a smile on your lips forever. Taking her glassy green eyes up to her face she ran her lithe fingers through the dark red hair, so deep crimson it looked the same tint as the middle of a rose. Her nose was thin and then stuck up a little at the end, creating a sort of ski jump effect, that had annoyed her for so very long.
Now you may have looked in upon this scene and expected the girl to be a flower on the wall and to merely allow people to walk all over her, but you would be very much so mistaken as, at almost a contradiction to who she really was the puppet like image she showed to the world was one of confidence, ambition and a girl who got what she both wanted and needed in life.
Slipping into her school uniform, her tie left slightly undone, merely because it made her throat feel constricted and that would bring back memories of. . .him and he was not something that her mind liked to recall. It was better in the past left buried and dead. Or at least in a coma for now.
Brushing her hair from root to tip and underlining her deep emerald eyes with a musky brown layer she painted on a lip gloss smile and there she was; smiling, happy and positive. . .oh how appearances could be deceiving and oh how she detested smearing on a lipstick smile, Blair wanted someone to tarnish that curve of her lips, wanted her make up to run and her hair to fly up and tangle in the wind. . .Blair needed to feel safe and human…to be real.
End__|
...just a thing I wrote...Blair is my character. <3
<3 tasha.
Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.
She was waiting. Waiting for the alarm to ring, and the day to begin. Waiting to slip back into her mask, and prepared to begin helping people, comforting friends and listening to problems of everyone except her own that were screaming out so loudly yet so silently, begging someone to see into her glass world and see how fractured she really was.
Her arched feet padded across the cold stone floor and she stared at herself in the full length mirror. Wearing only a pair of ebony silk pyjama bottoms and a thin sleeveless top her pale complexion was on full view to no one really but her reflection - just as all the tears she had cried had only been visible to herself - thin silvery scars mark the top of her arms where she had used to scold and burn herself with a hot wire, however that release had been found out and stopped.
People assumed now she was fine, that everything was good; but didn’t they understand you don’t change that quickly and you can’t force a smile on your lips forever. Taking her glassy green eyes up to her face she ran her lithe fingers through the dark red hair, so deep crimson it looked the same tint as the middle of a rose. Her nose was thin and then stuck up a little at the end, creating a sort of ski jump effect, that had annoyed her for so very long.
Now you may have looked in upon this scene and expected the girl to be a flower on the wall and to merely allow people to walk all over her, but you would be very much so mistaken as, at almost a contradiction to who she really was the puppet like image she showed to the world was one of confidence, ambition and a girl who got what she both wanted and needed in life.
Slipping into her school uniform, her tie left slightly undone, merely because it made her throat feel constricted and that would bring back memories of. . .him and he was not something that her mind liked to recall. It was better in the past left buried and dead. Or at least in a coma for now.
Brushing her hair from root to tip and underlining her deep emerald eyes with a musky brown layer she painted on a lip gloss smile and there she was; smiling, happy and positive. . .oh how appearances could be deceiving and oh how she detested smearing on a lipstick smile, Blair wanted someone to tarnish that curve of her lips, wanted her make up to run and her hair to fly up and tangle in the wind. . .Blair needed to feel safe and human…to be real.
End__|
...just a thing I wrote...Blair is my character. <3
<3 tasha.