The Face Of Opposite

I sat on the bleachers, looking all over the place. It was, how do I put it, not so huge but right for a theatrical play. There were chairs plastered on the center, students prepping for tomorrow's event. On the ceiling, there were these huge propeller fans that I almost got addicted to staring at it, if not for the fact that I remembered one of our psychology discussions about Autism. And, besides it was too bright for me to stare at it because of the huge light staring down that anyone who would've stared longer at it, would be blind, though metaphorically speaking.

The red haired girl that no longer had red hair, but black hair, grabbed my chin gently and veered my sight towards her. Smiling at the now black haired girl in front of me, before she let go and went with the rest of the group to do a blocking on their dance.

I wanted to go up front to get a better view of their blocking, but I was too shy to walk alone on the center. But I could still see her, albeit my blurry eyes. They started practicing their places and where they should be in place when they dance on tomorrow's event. I kept my eyes on her, and at the same time looking at the other members. They were good, but the now black haired girl was better, maybe because I like her and had that kind of thinking where she's better than anyone and gorgeous than anyone, even against from a model in my perspective.

Separating ways with her by the end of the day always does make me a bit sad. I admit I am a very clingy person and it's hard to let go of the person I get attached to. And there, the trust issues comes running along. But with her, I ignored those thoughts that kept me doubting from everything, rationalizing things, and just went with everything. I hadn't even noticed that I wasn't thinking of the things that makes me fear of loving, and fear of being too happy because of the thought that something bad would happen in the end. But, I didn't think of it.

The now black haired girl introduced me to the saying, "Que sera, sera." Whatever will be, will be. A close Spanish language but an Italian origin, as what I've read. And honestly, I think I'll stick to that quote for awhile.

How is it so possible that a person you like, is attractive even when she's all sweaty and having her make up smudged all over her face? She was the definition of a beautiful mess. Eyeliner smudged on the side of her eyes, red colored eyeshadow under her eyes that looked like she rubbed it hard, a few strands of her black hair sticking on the side of her face, a few remaining sweat on the side of her forehead, eating her fried chicken nonchalantly.

I smiled warmly at her as I ate my sandwich. Observing her subtly. My heart fluttering in warmth. How can she be so beautiful even with that smudgy messy look on her face? I guess that's why I came to be in love with her. She was natural with everything, confident, and gorgeous in every way she moves. She has this fierce look in her face that makes her more attractive. She has this, comfortable vibe around her, eveb when silence come between us, was comfortable. It wasn't an obligation to talk, or awkward. Silence between us was like a warm comfortable blanket surrounding us. We could stare at each other without uttering anything and still be in love with each other.

Surprises to me was no longer a surprise nowadays, but from her, I was suprised, as she looked like the type to go on parties, but no, she may look like it, but she's the opposite of how she looks. She doesn't go on to parties or have tried cutting classes, or suspensions, which, I have tried doing both honestly speaking. And here I look so innocent and baby faced, and yet I have cut classes and had a suspension. I realized it's true what they say about not judging a book by its cover. Because, you can't really judge a person by their looks.

Innocent may not be that innocent, and people with resting bad influenced face may not be that of a bad influence.