A Forgettable Face.

A/N: week 15, a story at a concert.

It wasn’t much, but to her it meant a great deal.

To him, she was just a face in the crowd, one of the many who smile, sing and chant their names, their songs. She was just a girl at a concert, who happened to capture his attention for a mere second. She hadn’t even meant to, she merely acted calm and collected, maybe that was what interested him.

But then she wasn’t a size six or blonde or blue eyed. She wasn’t fair skinned and cute, she wasn’t open and confident; she didn’t fawn over them. She wasn’t what society said young women needed to be – she wasn’t what patriarchy said. And no one noticed the girl who subverted.

Of course, she knew that she wasn’t alone in this. But the ones that attracted attention were the ones who flaunted society’s ideals; innocent doe eyed girls that seemed to catch the attention of naive eyes. All of them brainwashed, unknowingly, by the media. She smiled back of course, but she knew deep down that she was a forgettable face.

Maybe one day, that would change.

But not because she sacrificed a part of herself for someone else, not because she became something she was not, but because he loved her for her mind, her brain, her heart and soul. He didn’t love her because she hung on his every word. He loved her because she argued with him, because she disagreed, because she was independent – she was a feeling, thinking, human being. And that’s what should matter.

It’s shame it doesn’t to all people.


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