to be pretty | 2018

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LAUGHING seemed like a much easier thing to do than answer a question.

So that’s what Ember did, as the girl’s who were meant to be her friends begged for the latest gossip about her relationship.

She stared out to the water, remembering the time of simplicity, when she would sneak away from her family to collect as many shells as she could.

It seemed to futile, when at the end of the day, she wasn’t able to bring those shells home because they were dirty.

They weren’t dirty, she thought, her eyebrows furrowing in a strange form of past anger, they were beautiful. Does a small bit of sand, and seaweed make them any less precious?

She hadn’t even realised how long she had been absent from the conversation until she heard new gossip about someone else she didn’t care about.

That girl, Ember rolled her eyes, with the hair... you know, that one? Such a slut.

The girl sighed, inaudibly to the ‘friends’ around her, meeting eyes with the curious water, begging her to come back to its side, where everything was easier.

She would do almost anything to feel the way she used to. About things. About herself.

To feel beautiful in a hideous sparkly pink dress, to feel powerful atop a table.

To feel anything other than empty.

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