The Girl You Cannot See

I want you to see the messy girl behind the perfect winged eyeliner.

I want someone who’d admire and pay attention to all the stories I write as much as to the flowing locks of my hair.

A girl who re-reads a line from a book again and again because someone talked in between and she couldn’t pay enough attention to it.

I want you to find that little girl hidden inside the most mature girl who can sit by the window staring at the starlit sky everynight with the same enthusiasm with which a child marvels at his toys.

A girl who is always calm and poised but also feels the urge to throw someone’s phone out of the bus’ window for playing a musicallyvideo near her ears at full volume.

I want you to know the girl who is conscious of every little minute details around her like a dog crossing the road with a litterof puppies, an old man perfectly balancing the castle of bricks- his bread and butter, atop his head, a souffle of clouds playing hide and seek with the sun, the leaves swaying elegantly with the wind’s symphony.

A girl, who has a weird habit of reading all the name boards of the shops while walking down the street.

I want you to read between the lines, to see what I don’t put on display. I want you to discover the parts of me which even I’munaware of.

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