That Day

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That day I looked like my worst. My hair was all over my face, three-pack bags laid down my eyes from crying, there were acnes here and there, and my skin was dry from the lack of sleep. But here comes this man who gives me a compliment with the plain shirt, jeans and dirty sneakers I was in, insisting that I looked great.

That day I carelessly waddled carrying a backpack fully laden with my inhibitions, bitterness and pain. But here’s this guy who thinks that I’m pretty, extended his arm to offer his help.

That day I was feeling really bad but the same man who offered his help made out a goofy face to cheer me up.

That day I really felt like loser but this guy who just made a goofy face enthusiastically invited me to play the starring game. He said in that way I’ll win because he’ll melt less than a minute.

That day I felt unloved and alone but this guy who was willing to lose a game before me, bought me a rose, said that he picked the prettiest one and uttered the words I LOVE YOU.

But that day when he said I was pretty, I called him a liar.

That day when he offered his help, I told him I don’t need any especially from him.

That day when he tried to cheer me up, I told him he can’t do anything to make me smile.

That day when he made me fairly win a game, I pushed him away.

That day when he told me loves me, I told him I don’t feel the same.

That day I should have known that he was the one but I only saw myself, only cared for my feelings and my pain and because of that I lost a friend and a great pill of happiness.

6 thoughts on “That Day

  1. A significant issue nailed in a brief, engaging way. Women really do numbers on ourselves as a result of the numbers done on us by male-driven culture and advertising, don’t we?

    I would see this piece valuable as a way to teach high school girls about self-worth.

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