Flawed

ii.

  As I reached the last sentence of the Harry Styles fan fiction I've been reading, I found myself slowly regretting it. It was, needless to say, amazing, but the fact that I had wasted three days reading a fan fiction, sounded ridiculous -- even just thinking of it. It wasn't a secret that I didn't find One Direction as amusing as the other teenage girls, and yet I probably spend more time reading fan fictions about them than their fans do.

  What am I doing with my life? Slowly, I got up from my position on my messy bed. I took one last look at it before heading to the bathroom, feeling lazy to even smooth my blanket out. There were no job slots for me this week, thanks to a certain curly headed boy I spotted yesterday.

  Truth be told, I wanted to jump around in happiness, unable to believe that I actually met him, even for a brief second. It doesn't even feel like I met a celebrity, it just felt like I met a guy -- a normal one, at that. Someone who was also, just like myself, rushing to get to their job, not to please other people but to do what they love. It was probably of how he acted.

  If he was as cheesy and flirty as the media portrayed him to be, even the non-model girl that I was, he would have probably let me get the cab. And yet instead, he took it and fought for it, like a jerk. He didn't give it up because I was a girl. Not all celebrities are the same, I suppose?

   Shaking the thought out of my head, I splashed warm water on my face, letting it wash my tiredness off. As I lifted my soaking face up, I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror, and frowned, almost immediately. I turned the water into a hotter temperature, making the tiny room foggier than the warm water radiated -- fogging up the mirror, in the process, and therefore, only letting me see a blurred face. I sighed before continuing my morning routine.

   I tied my hair into a tight bun, not letting any hair slip from the tie. I proceeded to dress myself with a new pair of jeans, and a plain black shirt, along with my converse -- exactly like how I looked yesterday, only a different color of shirt. This style is what fitted me the most. Not entirely because it's the only thing I can afford, but because it just compliments me more, I guess -- it's something that describes me.

  After I dressed myself, I didn't bother looking in the mirror. My hair came out a little wavy from the bun as soon as I took it off. I let a brush do it's work before heading outside the door. I don't really know what I wanted to do because there really was nothing presented to me outside of my photography 'job' and my home. I was always reserved-- always inside the box. 

  Admittedly, I'd be more outgoing and more out there, but I just couldn't. I felt as though I couldn't hold my head up high, as a matter of fact, it's just normally down - so normal that it felt almost natural. It wasn't like I didn't try, it was because it didn't fit naturally in my environment. Almost like, I wasn't supposed to be confident, like, it's the most alien thing for me. 

  Sighing, I regretted going out the door. People were already looking right into my soul, trying to read me. Their eyes observing every inch and corner of my body, suddenly, I felt like running away, like I was so exposed. It's normal to have people look at you, I suppose, but I felt as though they weren't just looking, they were scanning me, judging me. 

   Walking around the familiar streets, I found myself scanning my surroundings. Even though I already know what's going on, I couldn't help but look closely at everyone. Just by doing this, I can feel myself feeling more confident -- in a nonjudgmental way, of course. I could just tell that not everyone was perfect, no one will ever be.

    But I wasn't insecure but I wasn't perfect, but because I wasn't good enough. 

    My eyes fixated itself to a sign on a nearby bookstore. My smile suddenly light up, and a thought just flew in my mind. Maybe I can't find a job now, and just try and get photography gigs once in a while. My feet dragged themselves to the said bookstore, re-reading the sign once more, just to be sure.