Painful Conformity

She was the girl who couldn’t conform. Her independence fitted her like a well tailored suit and unlike clothing could not be taken off. She didn’t want to and couldn’t bring herself to follow the crowd and quite prized the obvious distinctions between herself and her friends, as well as the general population. She had her own ideas and ways in which she wanted to conduct her life. Many admired the fire that glowed in her bright eyes and sharp senses. It imbued their sedated reality with a warmth uncharacteristic of a metropole consumed by survival. While everyone chugged away noiselessly, she felt certain that her spirited thoughts would very soon puncture the fragile yet enduring silence. She felt disruptive in the silence. Her fire though comforting was never infectious. Her red stood out markedly against the grey and she stuck out like a sore thumb.

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11 thoughts on “Painful Conformity

  1. Salamaat,
    wow…

    this is like sooo “me” πŸ™‚

    “, she felt certain that her spirited thoughts would very soon puncture the silence.”

    my fav. line πŸ™‚

  2. This reminds me of something quite opposite that I read on another blog but my reaction is the same – the person in the description seems to be a stand in for someone?

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