Another one

She stands alone in a world that is not always fair. Her soft, blue eyes look out at the world with an innocence akin to that of a child. She is not a child, however, she just isn’t as jaded as myself. “Why can’t you accept me for me? I’m not her, and I never will be. Don’t you see that I’m trying my best to make you proud, and maybe I could succeed if only you would let me.” The constant comparisons, loss of individuality, having to live up to an impossible title. Maybe that is where the compassion comes from. From the place where all the lack of confidence, anxiety, and the worries come from. That is where she learned to be as compassionate as she is now. Not to say that she is weak, she knows there are boundaries one must not cross, and she puts up with no fools. But to return to how she looks in this moment, she is smiling a half smile that just barely touches her eyes. Those eyes, soft and tender are looking at some point on a distant horizon, a horizon nobody but her can see. Her soft, long, light brown, hair is down, as it usually is. She is dressed for herself today, clothes that are comfortable, not necessarily fashionable. Regardless of all these things, or maybe because of them, she is beautiful in this moment. She captivates a man’s eye, without ever speaking a word. When she speaks, one is inclined, if not forced, to listen to what she has to say. Commanding, you could call the energy that surrounds her. Although it is a poor substitute for the indescribable feeling one gets when near her. Perhaps, it is weakness on this writer’s part, but I cannot find the words to describe her as she truly deserves. Hopefully she finds something within in these words, as poorly written as they are.