Portrait in Three
One,
The student buries her head in the desk,
Bad posture, face hidden with a baggy sweatshirt,
Loud ecstatic voices, seeming to echo into the air,
As cheerleaders and “jocks” flirt and laugh intensely.
She asks…Why can’t that be me?

Two,
The student sits with confidence in the front row,
Thick lens glasses, arm erect in air waiting to answer the question,
Not the prettiest, not the idiot, just the Brain of the class,
People only speaking to her when they need help.
She asks...Could I just have one real friend?

Three,
The student plays with and twirls her long beautiful hair,
Knowing all the other girls look at her in envy,
Bright eyes, smiling with perfect white teeth, red lipstick,
While handsome boys look at her knowing they’d be lucky to date her,
She asks…Why can’t I be more than this?

This is us.
His is our high school.
Filled with all of these torn students.
All of us with different struggles.
Trying to cover up our feelings and problems,
With makeup, smiles, baggy clothes.
We all cry.
We all laugh.
We all wish we could be something better, more glamorous, more intelligent.
And as we wish we could be more like the student next to us…
They are thinking the exact same…and we don’t even know.