I wanted to be her. Confident. In love. With herself. With the world.
I wanted to be like her. Walking proudly in high heels and feeling like I own the world.
I wanted to be her. So sure of herself. So chatty. So beautiful.
I wanted to be like her. Wearing red lip-gloss and sunglasses. Short skirts and bikinis.
I wanted to be her. So much.
I thought she was happy, she had the perfect life, the perfect family.
She vanished into the night.
And all truth about her came back in a flash of dark light.
She was not loved, she was consumed by passion.
She was not happy, she was in much pain.
She was fake.
She was somebody she was not, so she could face life.
She was smiling at the world. Inside, she was crying.
We never know what people are going through, what life they have, what happens behind closed doors: the best or the worst.
Praying for the best. Always. And remembering that we should never envy others but look at ourselves with love, enjoy whatever is good in our life and change the things that don’t seem right (for us).