Title: Illusionary Girl

Author: Kannachan27

Rating: T

Summary: She has always hated liars, but she has become a master of pretending.

She had never been the girl that everyone wanted her to be. She wasn’t very smart, not really. She tried and her grades weren’t abominable, so it was okay. (Just try harder next time, okay?) And, really, she wasn’t pretty or anything. She was cute, but only sometimes. She couldn’t always be pretty, but she wasn’t ugly or anything. So it was okay. (Just a little makeup and you look really good!)

She had friends. She seemed to have a lot of friends. Sure, sometimes they were separated for a few years, but they’d been close before and they were even closer now. Sort of. She knew that the friendship wasn’t a permanent thing, but she tried all the same. She didn’t tell them anything that she knew would hurt her. Or, when she did, she said it in a way that didn’t give all the details, but was still enough to satisfy the purpose of the confession.

When her friends disappeared, one by one, and they were separated by time once more, she felt a slight pain in her heart, but didn’t let it bug her too much. It was just the loneliness of loss. She’d felt it plenty of times before. When she saw them again and they embraced her closely, she smiled awkwardly and they promised to talk more, to spend time together.

But they never called each other, they saw each other in passing and that was about it. When she wanted to talk about serious things, she was awkward in approaching it, so she didn’t even try to breach the wall between them. It didn’t matter too much, anyway.

She tried to be who they wanted her to be. It didn’t matter the role, she tried to fulfill it. It was amazing how easy it was, once you picked up on the subtle signs. The way you were talked to, the way people smiled at you, the closeness between the two of you. She noticed all of this very quickly, almost without noticing it at all, and easily played the part that was wanted.

With a smile on her face, she could tell you exactly what you wanted to hear. It would bring a smile to your face; it would make all the difference. She’d make you happy because it was the only thing that she wanted to do, the only thing that she could do.

There’s a boy who wants her to act like she’s into him and she does it without thinking, without meaning. It was just a part, just a role to play. She hated him in some part of her heart, but she leaned close and whispered nothings in his ear just because he wanted to hear them from her mouth and nobody else’s. Or maybe he wanted to hear it from someone because nobody else would tell him. But it made his breath hitch like he wanted it to, and she just smiled and walked away because he just wanted her to be the tease and knew that she wouldn’t do any more than that.

A different voice for different people, and who knows which one is real? The words are twisting and turning and morphing and bleeding into one and she doesn’t know what’s for who until her mouth is moving and her body’s shifting into the posture she knows that person knows her as.

There’s the people around her that she doesn’t know, that she doesn’t care to know, and she’s unsure. Some of them think she’s the flirt, the slut, the girl who’s easy to get. Some think she’s the shy girl with a brilliant smile and unsure giggle. Others know her simply as the way she appears in that moment; they know her as the quiet girl who stutters and jumps when spoken to, but replies in a quiet and unsure voice, but she laughs and grins easily.

In a room full of strangers, she doesn’t know which one to be. She can’t be herself, though, absolutely not. Everyone expects something from her, something that she can’t give by simply being herself (and who says she even knows who that is anymore?).

There’s a party and she’s expected to dance, but she doesn’t know how and just does what feels right in the moment. With the music loud and feeling drunk on the pure sound of it, on the energy and the happiness around her, she dances like a slut, like someone who doesn’t care what she looks like and is doing it just to please the viewer. She’s not like this, she doesn’t like it, but it’s fun and she barely knows what she’s doing anymore when she pulls her ex-boyfriend close to her, you know - the one with the girlfriend - and knows that she’s doing something wrong as she’s dancing with him because his pupils are dilated and he’s tense all over, but she doesn’t care, just smiles coyly and switches partners because dancing isn’t fun with someone who you want but can’t have and won’t even pretend.

After, she’s all red-faced and shy, stuttering as people talk to her that she doesn’t know and she just excuses herself, but doesn’t apologize or correct their opinions on her. Who is she to tell them what to think, even if it’s about her? It doesn’t matter, it’s not like they know her. It’s not like she’ll see them again, and even if she does it’s not like she’ll be remembered.

So it’s just a game of pretend, except she doesn’t know what she’s pretending to be anymore. But that suits her just fine, she’ll find something to be eventually.

She’s pretending to be the person that they all want her to be; she’s the good daughter, the good student, the happy-go-lucky girl, the girl who you know doesn’t want you but is flirting anyway, the girl who can be the best friend and worst enemy you will ever have. She’s pretending to be all this and more.

When you leave her alone, though, the moment your presence is gone, she feels empty. Everything had gone from being too small and too close and too-everything, and then there was nothing and everything was too big and too open and it was all she could do to not shout in fear.

There’s something about her but you can’t put your finger on it. You see her around, and she’s always changing. You never know how she’s going to act from one moment to the next, but if you look close enough you’ll see the connections lie with the people around her. It’s a simple task, really, if you think about it and don’t think at all, just watch. Open your eyes and let your senses do the thinking for you, put the puzzle together. It should fit.

It’s okay if you hate her, you know. There’s nothing wrong with it, and if you tell her to her face, she’ll smile and simply… ask why. That’s all she’d want to know, really. She doesn’t mind if you hate her. She doesn’t mind if you’ve never talked to her before, she’ll just ask why and move on with her day.

As long as you’re happy, it’s okay. That’s the one thing that she wants out of life, you know. To make people happy. If you’re happy, it’s okay. All you have to do is be happy.

Hate her all you want. She doesn’t care. If it makes you happy, go ahead and hate her. Just be happy.

But never tell her you love her. If you tell her that you love her, she’ll just stare and she’ll probably start to break. She’ll start falling apart, and you don’t want that, do you? Don’t tell her you love her.

You don’t know her. You know nothing about her, so don’t you dare say those words like you do. Like you care. There are few people in this world that she’ll allow to say that they love her, and they are nothing like you.

They are the ones who know her the best. They’ve seen the real her, have helped her through the moments (minutes, hours, days, weeks, months…) where there is nothing right about her, where she’s questioning the life she’s living and wants nothing more than to be left alone with her wrongness and held closer and never let go. They are the ones who know her weaknesses and would never use them against her, who would accept her as the mixed-up girl that she is.

They are the ones who have seen her at her worst and accepted everything about her, who know exactly how she is, and let her be herself no matter how dangerous, how wrong she may be. They are the ones who expect nothing from her but her friendship, and the only person she has to be around them is herself. Herself, but with a few changes.

She senses the changes that they want in her and cannot make them. She cannot find the way to change herself to the person that they want her to be, and it is okay. It’s okay because she is slowly becoming that person on her own, and even if she couldn’t, they would still love her.

There are very few people who want nothing from her, and it is only they who she will allow to love her without kicking and screaming. It is only they who she will love.

She has always hated liars, but she has become a master of pretending. Only those closest to her are able to see through the illusion to the beaten remains of the truth. They are the only ones who are keeping her from dissolving completely into the lie.