Perfect ribbon.

Perfect hair.

Her clothes so tight.

Makeup just right.

She walks down the hall, looking stunning.

People turn to stare, gawking.

Heels clicking, eyes glittering, walking away.

She is fake.

A girl with nothing but wealth.

She is a bitch, the most loved and hated.

Moving and ruining relationships.

Eating away at people who try to get in her way.

And no matter how many times I say I hate her…

I don’t.

I just find myself gawking her as her heels click down the hall.

I am not jealous, I tell myself.

But, I know I am.

She can make herself look perfect while,

I’m just decent.