We shuffled into church late, as usual. Spotting an empty row I grabbed a seat after the opening song. It was when I looked up that I realized who was in front of me. I could tell by her fake blonde streaked hair and designer jeans. Of course it wasn’t that I hated her, just everything she stood for. It was if she was the peak of perfection, constantly reassured by everyone around her, including her overly tanned mother. Who on occasion would glance over and pat her on the knee with a smile that said “I couldn’t have asked for a more perfect daughter.” We had never officially met, but each knew who the other was. Different girls from different worlds. Her family had their own tanning bed, while mine could barely pay the mortgage. Her skin is tan, mine is pale. Her hair is short and styled, mine is long an untamed. She’s a cheerleader, I’m a dancer. She plays volleyball, I play guitar. She was homecoming princess, and I’m just a drama queen. She turned to me with a smile as she said “Peace be with you.” I smiled back and said “Peace.” Some people say life isn’t fair, but it isn’t up to life. It’s our job to make something of it. As I watched her walk out that night it made me said that someone could be that superficial. If only everyone could wake up and be happy with who they are. I silently thanked God for everything I had, and I was happy. Happy that I’m not like her .