It doesn’t take perfect symmetry for a face to be pretty.
Everybody’s pretty when they are at their best.
It’s such a whimsical moment sharing conversations with people: sharing what’s pouring out from deep, deep down in there, expressing the purest chills passing through those veins, letting those thoughts evolve into sounds and gestures, sharing a piece of you and passing onto another wishing that he will take care of it.
She never caught anybody’s attention. She was always that girl who sat in her own little world while another girl embraced every attention given her. She, while guys were busy checking out that pretty girl, never ever cared to check if her hair looked lovely or her lips were glossy. She never cared if her shoes didn’t catch glances from other girls or if her bag wasn’t so colorful to be noticeable in the crowd. Nobody asked for her number; nobody asked for her name.