Laura, are you happy?

You stand on the stage,
smiling a fake smile.
You were on the same
class with me. You had
always perfect grades.
I bet you still have.
You always blended in.
You always did what
your parents wanted
you to do. You lived for
their opinions. You wore
clothes that others wore.
You kept dancing, from
year to another, dancing.
You fit the pattern they
cut you into. You let them.

I was never like that.

I was always different. I didn’t want to be part of the cattle.
I wore MY clothes, though you used to stare at me, maybe you just envied me.
I quit my hobbies after a few years and changed them when I got bored.
I had good grades, a bit over the average.
I had my friends, those people who are real, not plastic.
People who wore clothes in wrong colors,
colors that stood up, bright, pretty, dark, scary, happy, angry, dazed, abnormal, our colors.


Are you happy there, dancing
strict patterns?
Do your grades make you happy?
Are you happy blending, in your gray clothes.
Maybe you are.
I wouldn’t be. I’m happy now sitting with her,
holding her hand tight. We are both different than others, similar with each others.
She is sweet. I wouldn’t change her to anyone. She is perfect as she is.
I am happy-Are you, Laura?