The Thorns of My Roses.

  ~I have a favour to ask :) ...Please leave me a comment if you got bored after  reading the first 3 paragraphs. I realy appreciate it! I'll return the favour! and thats a promise! (But dont ask for impossible things lol)  I have a feeling i am doing something wrong, but just cant quite pin point it~

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     Those words, soaked up all he tears, her smile, hid a thousand lies. This lovely heart concealed a thousand scars. Yet she wakes up everyday and breaths in the cold air like it was truly a blessing. She looked at life, with eyes full of passion. Even when she knows she'll be bruised forever.

 Chapter One: All that she was.

          She was the girl that no one knew anything about. She’d wonder the market everyday; enjoying the cool spring breeze and the warm rays of sun kissing her skin. Her curly black long hair was always pulled up in a ponytail leaving only her bangs covering her forehead. Her forest green eyes spoke about luxury, but her worn out clothes told a different story. She’s been always wearing the same pair of jeans, which looked like time had bitten chunks out of. Her rusty looking t-shirt managed to hide any possibly attractive features that may be lying beneath it.

      She looked like she walked out of a refugee camp. But here in Aleppo, where everyone lived peacefully, you would know your neighbours from all the way down the street. She just seems to come out of nowhere. Society wasn’t kind to those people here. Homeless were frowned upon, promiscuousity was abhored, and girls who were abandoned by their parents should not even exist and are shunned.

       As a guy, I didn’t feel attracted to her, not even to her plum thick lips and her pink cheeks that contrasted with her pale white skin tone. I pitied her. I’ve always wanted to go up to her and see if she ever needs something. She looked too innocent. She looked like she had a strong heart and I respected that. As much as she was teased by the people who hang around the streets everyday like they owned it, she showed no signs of sadness. She loves walking I figured. She loved watching things; or rather she enjoyed the feeling of being a bystander. I envied her a little. I wanted to do the same thing sometimes. Just be there and do nothing, wonder aimlessly down the streets.

            She loves eating those Arabic pitta breads that are made the old fashion way. I’ve seen her eat them slowly, closing her eyes while she’s enjoying the smell of the freshly man made bread. I was amused watching her have fun punching in the risen bread bubbles before she ate it, reminding her how fresh it was. The cool thing is that she didn’t have to pay for it, the bake felt sorry for her so he’d make her big loaf everyday. Master Shalabey was a really kind man.

       I also knew that she loved listening to instrumentals, the type of music that you hear in a sad japanese anime or old war movies with warriors. Ironic, I know Whenever she passes by a store that happens to be playing any of their songs she would stand there with a big grin on her face and hum to the music. She came off as being a little crazy to people, but I knew her eyes spoke enough truth that she was sane; sane and suffering.

       How do I know all of that, well, because following this girl around became my habit. No not stalking her, that’s plain out creepy. But I just loved watching her from afar, she was so interesting, like a white splash in my pitch black playground that my life is.

          And, well, she lives on the roof of the building next to mine, and I happen to live in the highest flour of the tallest building on the street. So basically what I am trying to say is that I am the only one who knows where she lives, and I can see her right outside my bedroom window.