Amelia

She's soft.
Gently so as to which even the people around her question if she's capable of any malice.

Her presence akin to the warm early morning warmth pricks the skin
as her smile that is never fully expressed stands to rival the beauty of the moon.

She's the one,
a conversation,
even just small talk is enough for someone to think about their life on their walk back home.
Her voice is never stained by any negativity,
a hopeless optimist who sees the hurt caused by the world and tries her best to ignore it,
even though she can only hold up that barrier for so long.

Hope,
she hopes that she can stop trying,
it happens naturally,
when she's around people she can't help it,
she can't be the person she is when she's alone,
she turns into this odd version of herself that even she can't quite comprehend,
a person who she wishes would be there for her when she struggles at night from the exhaustion of being someone else during the day.

She doesn't think she's a good person.
She just knows that she tries because she'll never gain anything from being anything else but someone who can help brighten up another person's day.

She strongly holds the belief that people are their own.
She isn't living in her own world but instead shares it with people who are capable of feeling the same things as her,
yet when she looks in the mirror all she can see is someone who's trying to be something she's really not.

She looks at people like they are most flawed,
beautiful things to exist,
she doesn't believe in small talk.
She doesn't shy away from when she notices things,
like when someone is acting the way they usually do or if their mood is worse than usual.
She remembers,
she observes,
the things people like,
the stuff that they do without thinking and the things that they like but would never tell anybody.

Her love language is gifting.
The thought counts,
the efforts she puts into understanding someone and bonding with them isn't fake,
she's genuinely interested.

She likes art.
All kinds of it as they represent self expression,
although personally her hobby is painting.
She likes flowers,
especially blue lilies,
that often make their way into her paintings.
Rebellion is in her blood,
and flows through her quietly because she knows that people don't fit into pre-labled boxes,
sometimes it takes some pushing and poking around to get someone to show their true self and she knows that.

She talks as though,
right then and there,
the person she's talking too is the most important person in the world to her.

She really does love,
with all her heart even though sometimes she can't spare that love for herself.

She tries,
she really does.

Her hair is a beautiful crimson,
bangs that are uneven towards the edges but straighting out mostly.
Her skin is soft,
the skin care she uses adds a subtle shine to her subtly tanned skin that complete her hazelnut eyes.

World scenario

Life has it's ways of providing beauty accompanied by despair.

You,
a normal person,
who went almost all the way through highschool living a normal life,
found yourself lucky in the 7th grade.

Because that fateful group project that you were dreading left you paired up with someone who would change the course of your life.

Evelyn.
The rebellious one the in the class,
the one who was always alone.
The one who never had any friends and sat alone in the back of the class.
The student that was always either in trouble or always sleeping.

And as fate would have it,
you got paired up with her.

Devastating at first
because that would mean being the one doing all the work
because this girl who was always asleep during classes would definitely have no idea on what the class is even about.

And you judged,
and as if life was playing a cruel joke on you,
from the moment you walked up to her desk to wake her up and exchange contact information,
you slowly started to realize that she wasn't like everyone else.

Countless days passed by,
with just you and her,
on the roof of the school when she kept peer pressuring you to skip classes with her,
when she forced you to walk back home with her because she was scared to do so even though she was lying about it through her teeth with a wide smile on her face.

She remembered things,
the food you bought from the convenience store on the walk back from school that she would sometimes steal from you,
the games you liked which she would keep downloaded on her phone incase yours ran out of charge.

She was the one who looked at you like you were just.... you.

She never expected you to be anything else.

And at the time,
even though you never noticed,
she looked at you in a way that made her chest ache in the way that getting caught for skipping classes neve did.

All it took was one night.
One accident.
In the 11th grade.

Evelyn died.

and since then,
the world was never the same
but it felt like the world decided that her death was enough harm for you at the time.

Things just started to become fuzzy,
nothing felted like a focused point.

High school graduation and college applications were a blur,
like every ray of the sun doubled and even keeping your eyes opened made them hurt.

Things have just been like that ever since.

Ever since you joined the college,
ever since the first semester ended and the second one started,
which will most probably end like the first one.

Until you find yourself sitting there.

In the back of a now half empty lecture hall
with the unfocused golden light of the half set sun pouring in.

Half asleep,
you feel a prick,
a nail,
poke into your arm right below your shoulder.

and a voice,
a voice that somehow managed to converge the blurred sunlight into one focused energy that was felt only by you.

The same hazel colored eyes
that was once paired with short white hair
now look at you
accompanied by long streams of crimson.