Tight sparkly dresses for a party, black dresses for a funeral. Tank tops for summer, sweaters for winter. We’re preparing... for what? For some boy? For some girl? For compliments from friends, even family?
You’ve changed. You’ve changed for the public. Changed because, your friends told you that the boy you liked admired skinny girls with long blonde hair and skin kissed by the sun.
So you dyed your hair 1,000 times until it was the perfect shade of fake. You melted in the sun until your skin was evenly toned. Then, you stopped eating...
“I ate before.” or “no thanks, I’m not hungry.” were the overused lies and excuses you told to family mostly.
Then... someone saw the boy with hair like fresh moist sand and eyes that you swore looked like those rare seashells you searched for, with that girl from another school.
Your friend tried to comfort you, but they grew tired of the struggle. “I’m sorry he changed his mind.” Were the only trite words they could speak to your melancholy mind.
Everyone always warned me about the drugs in the streets, but never about the one with hazel eyes and a heartbeat.