Not HER Anymore.

I wonder who she is.

That girl

With the long black hair with a bit of red in it

Sitting by the door scrawling all of her thoughts into a notebook

Barely noticing any other presences in the room.

Looking up at the teacher occasionally

To see if she notices.

That girl with the big glasses with scratches all over them .

The smart one that rarely says a word in classes but gets straight A's.

The one with the long legs that make up most of her body.

The one that no one really notices her unless to have a base to their jokes. 

Or judge her even though they don't know her.

I wonder what she's like.

What it's like to be her.

I wonder what kinds of things go on in her life.

I wonder how big her heart is.

How her thoughts are.

Dark and mysterious.

I wonder why no one notices her except for me. 

She's not invisible.

Yet I never even dare say "hi" to her.

I know she loves to play her instrument (the viola) 

And write.

She wrote so much that I wondered why her hands hadn't fallen off.

There's probably so many layers to her that no one cares to even wonder about.

There's a girl that barely breathes.

Yet never gets noticed with a peak of curiosity.

I think I know her. 

That's me.

But I'm not her anymore.

Human dignity + compassion = peace.