Cerridwen walked along the public path in a dark mood and a frown on her face. It had taken a lot of pretending and a lot of sneaking around for her to get away from the family gathering that her father had called for her nineteenth birthday. A family gathering to her parents meant a big party with family, friends, neighbors and even acquaintances. It was a pain. Everything was light, everything was upbeat and everyone was laughing. As if her birthday was something to celebrate. She stomped her ivory white heels in frustration.
Didn't they see it? Didn't they feel it?
Of course they did. She had never been able to keep pets or grow plants. None of them had lived for more than a day. She never had friends. Most of them thought it was 'draining' or 'tiresome' to be around her. She was sure that even her family thought the same way of her but none of them ever voiced it out though she caught the fleeting looks on their faces several times. At first the looks bothered her but she eventually learned to stop caring. It didn't matter. If she were them, she'd feel the same way. There was something wrong with her.
She looked down at herself in chagrin. She was wearing a pair of white jeans and a lavender tank top. Despite the fact that all her clothes were light of cheerful colors, it didn't really suit her. She never really felt cheerful or happy like what the clothes seemed to impart.
When will the pretending stop?
Maybe she should dye her clothes black. Maybe her blonde hair should be black too. That would suit her better.
She was too engrossed in her own irritation and was walking the fastest that she could go on her four inch heels to notice that she was walking straight into someone.