the girl

had this incredibly readable face -- i think it was in the creases of her eyes, or the way she held her mouth. if you looked at her, she knew without looking up that you were looking, and was changed by it. her actions became a performance for the watcher, but she knew it and hated herself for it. and unfortunately, it was obvious because her face was so readable. but she would gaze anyway at her book of handwriting and sketches, as only a beautiful face can gaze, head tilted at a calculated angle showing a mixture of concentration and performance, and awareness and she hated every person in the world at that moment.

and you love her for that. but at the same time, you wish you could shake her, or grab her arms and maybe hit her hard enough to bruise, or kick her while she's down and tell her to ignore all the world for lotus blossoms and purity.