It was not just another one in the middle of all those other girls, and she knew it. She was different. I liked that no one knew, hated things common. She liked rock, blues, while the other melted some bands for those without salt. She spent her mornings writing, sleeping, writing songs while the others were in the club dancing to songs that she would never dance. She spent nights crying and the next day disguised with black eyes, and his heavy red lipstick the color of blood. The stranger called. And she liked it. Sometimes hurt, sometimes she felt out of the world, but actually knew that it was good. That was great.
Theme made by Max Davis.
