That Girl…

I am that girl, you see in the corridor, head bent, hair disheveled. That girl, who you think you know everything about, the one you think has nothing much about her, and yet… the one you know nothing about. That girl, the one whose name you are not completely sure about, the one who you associate with ‘nerd’, the one who, with your nose in the air, you call.. what’s that you say? ‘Teacher’s Pet’. Sometimes, she is too clingy, sometimes she is too zoned out, sometimes she is too emotional, sometimes she is too sensitive. She is always too much of something. You don’t really talk about her though, just when she is mentioned to you recall her, “Oh that girl… she is too…” Always too much of something. You don’t care for her, but you know her weakness, that girl… she cares too much. About everyone, about everything. You don’t remember her name, you don’t know her, but you know that girl… you can call her when you need her. Only when you need her…When your mornings reveal a tear stained pillow or your fast approaching deadlines are building up the pressure, that’s when you need her… That girl, she’ll stay up the night to complete your work, so you sleep your beauty sleep at night. That girl… she’ll not leave you till she has wiped your tears and fixed your broken story. That girl… what about her story? Who is going to fix that? Who is going to hear her out when you trample her heart and leave her vulnerable and lonely? When she looks at you, and slowly her trust in everything and everyone, fades away into nothing. And yet she’ll do it all over again, wipe fresh tears and meet new deadline, for you… all for you…while the same old tears decorate her lashes another night and the same old fears grip her fast and the same old loneliness leaves that girl broken, again…
That girl…the one in the corridor, head bent, hair disheveled. That girl…you don’t really remember her, till you need her to pick up the pieces that you leave behind…

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