Perspective

She picked up the bottle off the ground and held it in her hands, she noticed how the bottle looked brand new, but the cracks on the outside and molded left over drink on the inside say it's been there awhile, slowly accruing more mold, and more cracks as the weather changes, and from the blows it sustains from people kicking it along the street. The bottle is well polished on the outside, there is no dust like you'd expect... Instead it is shiny as if it was brand new. But if you look close enough you can see spiderwebs of cracks from the tip of the bottle to the end. All it would need is one good blow to send it shattering into a million pieces. She could not figure out why this disgusting bottle fascinated her, then she realized. She is that bottle. She can keep up her appearances on the outside, make up on, hair done, dressed up. Check. But if you looked closer, if you looked deeper beneath the makeup cracks would surface. One by one cracks would connect to another forming a web. Web by web her make up would begin to wash away and you would noticed her heart inside her chest slowly decaying. With every disappointment, every punch, every hurtful word a piece of her heart would rot, and then die . She may have seemed like an empty shell of a person but if someone took the time to put their ear to her chest they would hear the ocean raging inside of her. But no one looks that into things, no one looks at a dirty bottle and thinks "maybe there's more to this than we know, maybe this thing has seen better days" . And it's just the same with people, so for appearances sake, she will put on her make up, put up her hair, and find the most hue appropriate outfit that doesn't scream "hey, I want to die!". She put the bottle down, face up. And walked away .