She was odd. At first glance she was normal. She wore jeans, sneakers, a tank top and a sweatshirt. There was nothing unusual about that. Her brown hair was pulled back and her eyes were a stony blue-green color. Once again, there was nothing out of the ordinary.

But there was something in the air around her that was different. Her eyes were far off and here mind was obviously somewhere other than in the classroom. She sat slightly balled up, like she didn't want people to see something. There was something about her that was odd, something he didn't know the words for.

When she opened her mouth, she seemed so unsure. She didn't want to say the wrong thing. When she wrote, she was confident. And it changed everything about her.

It was almost as if the words were drawn to her. They seemed to fit themselves wherever she wanted them to go. In addition to that, they seemed happy to do so. The words seemed to be hers, every letter, every syllable, and every sentence.

If you looked at her most of the time, she seemed plain. But if you read her words and then looked at her, she seemed different. She was deeper, darker, lovelier and more amazing.

And as she wrote she looked different. With her face leaning over a sheet of paper, mouth parted slightly, teeth biting the tongue that stuck a bit out of her mouth and her deep breaths through her nose, she was a completely different person. In those moments, she no longer looked human. Her hands were too graceful to be human. Her eyes were too full of emotion to belong to a human. Her expression was too vivid to belong to anything but a goddess, and angel or some other kind of mythical creature.

She was not an angel. The pain in her eyes was nothing like the gentle gaze of an angel. And she was no goddess. She was too real to be a goddess. She was something he had never heard of, but he knew it was some kind of mystical being.

She was distant and unattainable. As much as he wanted her, he couldn't have her. No one could have her. She belonged to no one. She was impossible to tame and nothing you hold her back or tie her down. She was too wild to be held captive for long. And the many years she was kept in this prison called suburbia would be the reason she would take off and never return as soon as she could escape.

There was something inside her that showed both sides of the coin. She was innocent, yet at the same time, she was corrupted. She was both angry and joyous. Part of her reflected a deep maturity few could ever attain, while another part of her was amused with the games of a child. And she seemed so simple to understand at times, but there were moments when she was impossible to even begin to figure out.

She was so many things. Her hands were grace, her arms were tranquility, the calm before a storm. Her legs were will and her feet were instinct. From waist to neck she was tradition. Her mouth was determination and her lips were familiarity. Her ears were simplicity, and her nose was imperfection. Her voice was renewal and her hair was rebellion. Her eyes, they were so many things.

In her eyes he could see sadness, longing and regret. Along with that, he saw hope, second changes and forgiving. Her eyes shone with childhood, memories, dreams, belief and fairy tales. He could see fragments of everything her eyes, except for faith and trust.

From what she wrote, he knew she had lost faith in the people around her and trust in friendship r love. And her lack of faith and trust was what he remembered most about her. Because in place of the faith and trust, there was an excessive amount of tears and fear.

He wanted to be the one to bring back her faith in people. He wanted her to trust him enough to tell him the truth about everything. He wanted to be the reason she opened up and let all she had kept in come out. He wanted to wiped away her tears and he wanted to stand beside her when she battled her fears. He wanted her with every fiber of his very being.