Love is..

Mirabella. The worlds ugliest name.
Yeah, sure it fit with someone less like me. Sure it fit with my charade. But not with me.
But then again – that was pretty much how my live was. Non-fitting. And I was non-living. I felt dead behind my charade. Behind the smile.
The me you would meet – she was so unlike me.
She were steady. She smiled a lot, but laughed rarely.
And the sound was so fake that small girls would look at her and ask: “What's wrong?” And then, she would just pull off one more fake smile.
That was the only me you would be able to meet.
I didn't know any other way.

When he looked at her, he saw this tiny little girl.

When she danced the most beautiful of dances with the handsomest of men – when she sang the songs in that special way, that made you get goosebumps all over your arms – when she smiled that breathtaking smile that would make everybody smile too, he still saw her as she were.

A little girl trapped. Sitting in a lonely corner, surrounded by people even faker than herself.

But he knew the difference. She didn't enjoy it. She was forced to. She hadn't had a choice.

He would give her.

He'd fallen for her. He shouldn't have.

In the beginning, he told himself, several times a day, “you don't love her.”

It was like a mantra to him. Each time he saw her, he said, almost hummed, “you don't love her, you don't love her, you don't love her.” But little did it help.

He felt so helpless. Here he was a loner. An outcast. A freak. And he knew she probably wouldn't even look in his direction. Why should she?

But that day, she, against all odds, did. She'd been at a big party all night. She'd been dancing with all those fake pretty-boys, but at one point she'd seen him.

As she were dancing with a random boy, the boys hand slipped as she hold onto it as her only lifeline. She were about to fall, but almost spun, gracefully, into a pair of arms. His. Their eyes locked.

“You really shouldn't trust someone like him, not to let you fall,” he whispered, leaning close to her ear.

The little girl looked up at him.

“You are beautiful,” she stated.

He looked at her, a bit choked.

Even though he had been watching her for so long, he hadn't expected her to say that.

Hadn't expected the little girl inside her to take over so easily.

Cause that was what had happened. And she knew.

She slapped a hand onto her mouth -

“Sorry,” she mumbled.

But he just smiled. “Come with me.”

And she trusted him. As she trusted everyone she met. But this time, her trust wasn't betrayed.

Mirabella. The worlds ugliest name.
Yeah, sure it fit with someone less like me. Sure it fit with my charade. But not with me.
But then again – that was pretty much how my live was. Non-fitting. And I was non-living. I felt dead behind my charade. Behind the smile.
The me you would meet – she was so unlike me.
She were steady. She smiled a lot, but laughed rarely.
And the sound was so fake that small girls would look at her and ask: “What's wrong?” And then, she would just pull off one more fake smile.
That was the only me you would be able to meet.
I didn't know any other way.
Now I do.