The mystery of the little girl

I like to play the role of the Mysterious girl, you know the kind I’m talking about. The ones you see in movies, who walk with their heads in the clouds and never in the direction that everyone else is walking. The ones who have too many locks, and you can never find enough keys to open all of their doors.

But let me tell you a secret the Mysterious Girl doesn’t want you to know, she keeps her head in the clouds for a reason, she’s afraid of what she will see if she comes down, she doesn’t know how to face the realities of life, so she spends her day with her mind in the sky.

Let me tell you a secret the Mysterious Girl doesn’t want you to know, she keeps those doors locked for a reason, she’s given the keys away before in the hands that unlocked her, decided that they didn’t like what they found inside, she’s decided there are some things that are better to hide.

I can’t tell if people like me. Strangers, classmates, friends. I can’t tell, I keep thinking their kindness can’t all just be lies but, what if it happens it is? I can’t help worrying that they’re taking advantage, that they’ve always been. I love people too much, and maybe they know that. Maybe they’ve heard of me and my love and green eyes. Maybe they can see how hard I’m trying to be nice. They think it’s pathetic strangers. What if they secretly pity me? Want out of my sight? I guess it’s just the fact that I can’t even tell if “i” like me. I don’t even know if I’m like able at all. And if I don’t like me why would they?

Mysterious Girl has green eyes, but they’re not the kind of green that people write poems about Their dark, They look like the scary part at the end of the woods. They look black in most lights. They don’t look the kind of green that green eyes should do. And maybe that’s just the jealousy talking. Maybe I’m just complaining, and it’s annoying because if I had brown eyes or hazel eyes, I’d be complaining too. But I don’t care. That doesn’t really matter in the end because we all want to be someone new. We all want to be everything but what we are.