Lost

Have you ever stood in the midst of a crowd and felt completely and utterly alone?

Maybe I enjoy that feeling. From where I'm standing, it means that I will never be one of them.
Skewed perception?
I don't care.
I can't bring myself to. (This is what comes of being told that I'm the female version of Draco Malfoy. Bastards.)
Either I get too emotionally involved or I'm watching life graze past me.
Tourist.
Easy.
I will only miss you if you make a difference to my life.
I'm not selfish or even self absorbed, I'm honest.
Most people think that anyway, give me credit for being open about it.

You know what the irony of the situation is?
Even though I'll never consciously admit that I miss you, I will invariably dream about you.
It's hazy and real all at once and I wake up with the feeling of the sun burning up my skin reminding me that you're no longer here. I'm filled with an aching emptiness, a longing I spend my waking hours working to expel.
I've never been able to escape these dreams. Even as a child, emotion always caught up with me here. I'd wake up with tears streaming down my face confused as to why this didn't happen when I fell and there was a beautiful patch of blood on my knee or when those boys were teasing me or when I got a C in math...
It never struck me as Repression.

My body has begun to hate me.
I know I'm not fat, not even close (this is the result of years of drilling and standing in front of the mirror and 'people' telling me they wish they had my 'figure'. Figure? pah)
Still, I hate the sight of me. Nothing is long enough. I've tried multiple layers and socks and skinny jeans and skies of black, I've taken to wearing my mothers' big old tee-shirts and my brothers' huge 'boy' ones (if he doesn't make me pay 100 bucks every time he catches me stealing them).
Girl doesn't even come close.
I fight to hide my skin and face but the Indian weather always wins.
I end up with a messy ponytail and hair all over my face. People ask me how I do it. I don't know what to say.

Am I the girl in black, with blank eyes who sits in the middle of it all scribbling about nothing?
Am I the girl with more friends than she can count and none to turn to when all she wants is to disappear?
Am I the girl who steals feelings and hearts because she lost her own somewhere along the way?
Am I the girl with a plastic smile and innate retardedness, a front she puts on to prove she's real?
Am I the girl who wants the guy she can't have?
Am I the girl who loves drama because it means there is a story and conventionally stories have happy endings?
Am I the girl who's so caught up in being herself that she forgets to remember that the world exists.
Am I the girl who sets no targets at all for fear of disappointment and rejection?
Am I the girl who confuses reality and fantasy as easily and one would confuse Coke with Thums Up?
Am I beautiful because you love me or do you love me because I'm beautiful?
Am I scarred?
Am I scared?

Don't bother telling me, I'd rather run into a mirror.