Thursday, June 16, 2011

Version 2

Everything about Laria was perfect: her hair was always flawless, not a flyaway in sight. Her wardrobe consisted of the latest designer brands, shipped from Paris and Milan even before they made their debuts on Hollywood stars.
And when you got to know her, and got past the perfection, the only word you could use to describe her personality was, in fact, "electric."
Laria was the kind of girl that could make you laugh, even when you were on the verge of bursting into tears, and the kind of girl that seemed to make the lights burn brighter when she walked into a room. Her laugh could make anyone's depression end, and her smile seemed to make all your worries just float away, drifting off into the clouds.
Laria was just that kind of person. 
And yet one day, her cold, dead body appeared by a lake three towns over, her large green eyes wide open from shock.
Her life ended a few months ago, but the mystery of how she died still hung over all of the inhabitants of this town where she lived, an unanswered question. 
Her frozen expression haunted our minds like a nearby ghost, creeping into our minds. Her emerald eyes wide open, and her mouth formed into a lowercase "o". 
People have said that someone had crept up behind her, and at the last second, she had seen her murderer and was shocked. Others whispered about how she had killed herself with poison, her mouth hanging open from swallowing the deadly liquid.
Little did any of us know, she was just in the middle of a laugh.
Laria's POV
I've always been the kind of person who would jump at the chance to do something unexpected: buy something out of style, go on a crazy adventure, or try something new.
But the thing that no one expected the most was my death. 
I never even expected myself to go that far, to let myself die by the hand of someone else, or my own. I suppose I was building up a bridge for that subconsciously, with my parents making up their own life for me, sculpting me into their own little perfect princess. 
I have a theory that they only had me so they could make the perfect person, with all the fancy clothes and the flawless hair. I bet they never even intended me to want to make my own decisions, to want shape my own life instead of becoming their sculpture, their creation, their "perfect little daughter." 
Becoming myself was a goal that I intended to reach. At first I tried to alter my wardrobe to my own liking, swapping out frilly, bow-covered blouses for band tees, and ruffled skirts for destroyed jeans and dyed shorts. I attempted to go out into public with my new wardrobe, filled with amazing (in my opinion) clothes. But I as soon as I stepped out of my walk-in closet, I was stopped by my parents, who scolded me in not wearing "appropriate clothes." 
But by becoming as unexpected as possible, no one could stop me. 
So now I'm free to become me, the true me, in all my unexpected glory. 
So here's a thought. Next time you see someone who looks utterly flawless, they might not be so perfect. After all, we're all just actors on a stage, forced to play the parts that society chooses for us without our permission, controlling us like puppets.
So next time they try to control you, to try to shape you into someone you're not, just remember: 
Be yourself, and stay strong.

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