Her seaweed green tipped brown hair was in a high ponytail. Her face was framed by a big pair of glasses. She shuffled around the room looking for her lost lipstick. She was missing her favorite dark blue lipstick.
She looked around her room for her lipstick. She eventually found it under her bed. She put the lipstick on her full lips. It made the rest of her, already light, skin pale in comparison.
Her brown eyes sparkled with joy. She loved when her makeup worked out. Her eyeliner actually looked even and you could barely tell that she had a face full of pimples.
She wore a red, blue, and white plaid button up shirt that was tucked into her blue jeans. Her black converses pulled the whole outfit together. She rolled the sleeves to her forearm to show off her silver bracelet.
She then fixed her hair so that two pieces could frame her face. Then she fixed her collar so that her silver chocker and silver necklace showed. To add a final touch she put on her big hoop earrings.
As she was checking everything, she heard the knock on the door. She raced to the door and calmly opened it.
At the door was a boy. His brown hair was nicely kept. He looked up nervously at the girl, with his bright blue eyes. He shyly greeted her. She then stepped out of her house.
She ushered him to her car. They got in and went to the nearby park. They had a little picnic. They spend most of the afternoon talking and watching the sky.
She sat up and looked at him. He looked up at her. They both leaned into each other.
That's when I woke up. The tissues littered around my bed. My tears still soaked my pillowcase. I sat up, feeling very light headed.
I walked downstairs to get some water. My family looked at me with sympathy and concern.
"You know that it's almost 2." My sister kindly pointed out. I turned to see the clock that read 1:46, in bright green numbers. Green, such a pretty color brought me so much pain. I started to cry again.
I chugged down some water and went upstairs.
I managed to pull myself together enough to get dressed. I didn't try to put my hair up or even look at my lipsticks.
I stumbled downstairs again, blasting my sad playlist. When the song 'Hoodie' came on, I cried and sang along. The words echoed down the hallway.
"I kept the broken zipper and the cigarette burns. I wear it at night when I sleep, even though it hurts" I sang in between my cries.
My family didn't stop me. They didn't know what to do. I had never openingly expressed my feelings like this. They were pretty much stunned to silence. I made it the kitchen table then I fell asleep.
I did this a lot. This only happened at home though. When I went outside my home, I act like nothing happened. I wear my lipstick and do my makeup. I look like someone who's never known heartbreak.
On one of those fateful outings, I saw him again. I just ignored him. I was getting over him.
He, on the other hand, saw me. I turned and waved at him. We got into a small conversation. At the end, he tried to give me a hug. I stopped him.
"Stop doing that." I whispered.
He looked up at me confused. "Stop doing what?" He asked.
I looked at him died in the eyes and preceded to pour out my soul, "You keep making me think that we are going to be more, but you won't put in the effort. You give me some attention then you don't talk to me for days. I'm tired of this back and forth. I want you to tell me. Are we ever going to be something or are we going to be friends? Because I can't take the in between anymore."
He looked so shocked but then jumbled out, "I... d..don't think.... we can be... anything."
In this moment, I picked up all my dignity and self respect and walked away. To this day, I don't know what it would be like if he had said we should be a couple. But quite frankly I'm over being used.
