Shards of Beauty

She started out as one of the few girls that did not want the attention. In fact, with the exception of being addressed, she hardly spoke, and her wardrobe consisted of only sweatshirts, blue jeans, and converse. It didn't change a thing though.

EVERY DAY WAS A WAR.
In school, out of school.
In town, out of town.
Near or far.

Showered by their demeaning stares she was and they made her feel diminutive and feeble. They hounded her: glowering, whispering, gossiping, pointing, laughing. Desperately, she tried to escape the judgment, but the opportunity was seldom. They simply would not stop. It was like skating across jagged ice. Chin inclined, the routine is effortless until you hit that rough patch; then you're compelled to look down, waver to and for, and eventually collapse.