What Matters

She was a mess - right from her hair to her clothes and her past.

Her hair - uncombed and flyaway mess; her clothes - almost always one size too large; the books she owned - always worn around the edges. If you just look at her, there's no beauty - none at all. Not in the way she laughs at her stupid jokes, nor her voice that's a pitch too high nor in the way she shuts herself away when she finds someone too close - just like a touch-me-not does.

But then, if you waited a moment longer and watched her - you'd see. The truth is that truly beautiful things are always, ALWAYS a mess. As she walks with her shoulders hunched down in a way that shows no life, you'd see just a glimpse of her scrawny body with stretch marks that talks of a time when she'd been more fit. Her eyes hidden behind thick glasses looking at you while longing for faraway dreams and escapes. If you opened her books, you'd see bits and pieces of her mind and thoughts racing about the pages scrawled in her careful hand writing - old yet well-kept. If you put your fingers through her hair, you'd realise it's not as rough as it seems to be.

If you look closely enough, you'd sometimes see her teary eyes even as she smiles and turns it into laughter for a joke you find boring. If you knew about the times she stuttered to speak something in the midst of her own family, maybe you would find her voice normal, not screeching loud. If you knew about all the reasons behind every little thing, then you'd like her. You'd wait to know her when she closes down until she opens up again. And maybe you would be kind when you know.

Perhaps, she would tell you about the time her mother left. Her smooth hair a reminder of a better past before an angry father chopped all of her hair in rage. The big clothes she owned were warmer and more homely to her having used her brother's hand-me-downs her entire childhood. You would have known if you bothered that she slept with her books most times, crying as she pens down her thoughts. 

Maybe.

But you'd have to look and not just see...

Look for her beneath what you see.

And if you can't find her, like most people. Don't you dare go about calling her " just another girl".