The world is full of deceptions.
I’m one of those. I dwell in more places than I’d prefer to be in. I face
mirrors on a daily basis. Faces. Each day a face, each day I slowly fade. But
then I’m born again somewhere. Somewhere on a face, a hand, a foot. When I
disappear somewhere, I reappear in another place, time, person. Who I am is
something subjective. My enemies are subjective. Whether it’s a boy from high
school, or yourself. Anything is out to get me.
I am Pretty. No, really. I’m
“Pretty.” My name is Pretty. My being
is derived from an idea of what a person defines as what I am. The goddess
Aphrodite herself has ordained me to reside in her being. I am Pretty.
No, I do not look like a preppy
cheerleader with blonde hair and blue eyes. But if you think that’s what I am,
sure. Why not? Truth be told, I have no face. Yes, I can manifest physically.
But interestingly, I manifest more as a thought. An opinion. A varying concept.
And I last longer in those forms. More often than not, I am in the eye of the
thinker.
In the years that I have existed
on this planet, I have seen amazing things, and also terrible things. And I
have collected a massive amount of stories along the way. I get bored just
existing, you know? In the 60’s to 70’s I experienced a bit of a stretch. These
humans are so prone to shifting it often gives me a headache. More so in the 2000’s.
God help me, I did not understand myself anymore. Especially when a certain
Gaga turned 21. Who’s to say what, or who I’ll be in the 3000’s?
Anyway, one of my favorite
stories is about a girl. This girl lived in the 2000’s. Her name is Belle. I
had a few glimpses of her life on special occasions. Only when she decides to
dress up, and after a thousand or so (exaggerated) outfit changes, I’m finally
there. I see the success in her eyes, and the genuine sparkle of belief in me. I
could see her from her family’s thoughts as well. I saw her through her
mother’s eyes, her brother’s eyes, and through her Nana’s eyes. She was
carrying me well.
It was her prom night, and I felt
the twinkle of excitement from the place between her spine and her stomach. She
had decided to go out with her three friends, because no one had asked them out
mostly. But she wasn’t gonna let that thought get in the way of her having a
spark-tastical night. The only thing that she’s nervous about is the thought of
Johnny Brooks. The boy she had a huge crush on. She was clinging onto a tiny
trickle of hope that he would find me in her. Even just a little bit of me.
I zoomed in on the prom to see
Johnny Brooks. Boy did he look fine. Even I
had to stand back and enjoy the view from the onlookers around the
sparkling cafeteria hall that was cleverly fashioned to look like the painting
“Starry-starry night.” By Van Gogh. They placed pieces of twisted colored
paper on the walls to replicate that intricate texture you can only find on a
Van Gogh. It was a breath of fresh air from all of the “hipster” crap kids
these days are crazy about.
Belle stepped into the cafeteria
with her friends. They stopped to admire the view, and started screaming
excitedly against the loud music.
“I’m gonna
go get some punch!” one of the girls screamed. Belle nodded and three of them
scooted off towards the food table. I could see her at a 360-degree angle now. Everyone
had me in their mind when they looked at her. Some even had the courage to
verbally acknowledge me. But Belle didn’t care for their remarks. She
immediately scanned the room for the one person whose remark she cared about.
Ah. Right there. She made a beeline towards Johnny and stood awkwardly five
steps away from him.
The song
had changed to a slow one. It was one of Belle’s favorite songs by Jason Mraz.
An unyielding feeling of want churned up inside of her.
Please ask me to dance. Ask me to dance!
Johnny’s best friend Beck clapped
him on the shoulder and started an audibly animated conversation.
“Dude did
you see that Belle chick? She looked H.O.T.”
“Belle? You
mean from Geography class, Belle?”
“Yeah man!
I didn’t think it was her but, lo and behold, girl’s a stunner!”
“I think
she’s okay. But I don’t know. She’s different.”
I felt myself slowly drain from
Belle’s face. There was nothing I could do. Right before Belle walks away she
hears Beck gasp, “DUDE!” she looks up and both boys were looking straight at
her. She walks passed them and I felt something tug at me from outside of Belle.
Instantly, I saw her from
Johnny’s eyes. And I felt it. I was being pulled towards a boundary that I
rarely cross nowadays. As he watched her walk away, I felt myself morph from a
thought, to a feeling, to understanding. Into truth. I was shaking with
excitement when I finally settled. I wasn’t Pretty
anymore. Johnny had acquired what a lot of humans in the world have yet to,
or will never experience.
What he felt, and saw in Belle
wasn’t Pretty. It may have started that way, but he understood that it wasn’t
enough to explain what he was seeing. To him, She was Beautiful.
He quickly
grabbed her arm. She looked back at Johnny, looking straight into his eyes.
It was like electricity. I felt a
little of myself spark inside Belle.
So you see? A little comment like that can eat me up in a
snap. But the thought of me can be so fleeting, yet strong enough to
experience… Beauty.
© Seed Bunye
The Fine Line Between
© Seed Bunye
The Fine Line Between
