A Work in Progress

‟A Work in Progress„ is - as many other stories - about a girl and a boy. But this story is not only about a girl and a boy, this story is about feeling weak and lonely, even though you have no reason to be so. This story is about seeing others being happy and feeling like you never will be. This story is mainly about a girl feeling lost in her own reality, a girl who even though she’s very weak, fights to find her place, and about a boy who is so painfully perfect that the girl hates his guts, but can’t seem to stay away.



 The reflection of the mirror showed a strong and beautiful young woman. Her hair was a violet mess gently brushing against her shoulder, kissing her milky skin and cascading down her back, stopping just a few inches before her waist. Her eyes big, almost too big, in a piercing green. Surrounded by heavy black eyeliner and arched thin eyebrows, the left one decorated with metallic studs. Her nose, lips and ears were decorated too. The ears filled with metallic studs and polls in all shapes.

 Her body frame was long and slim. Her upper body was clad in a large navy-blue sweater with white vertical stripes and a large black winter coat. Her hands were gripping the black and white striped backpack and her legs were covered in black ripped boyfriend jeans and her feet black Doc Martens with yellow stitching.

 She was indeed a very beautiful woman and appeared strong in front of friends, family and other onlookers. But she knew the truth, that she in fact was a very weak person.

 Her name was Clarice, her mom had named her after the character in the Silence of the Lambs, Clarice Starling. She had fallen in love with the character when she read the book, but absolutely hated how she had been brought to life in the movie. Clarice’s mom had always told her to be strong, just like the book character she was named after. But she had never been.

 The green-eyed girl had lived a quiet life. Mostly kept to herself, done her homework and presentations. Showed up to work on time, been there for every family gatherings and made sure to always have a plan for the weekends with at least one friend. She had never been a social butterfly, no if it was, she could be described as a social moth. Not elegant as and smooth as a butterfly, but rather clumsy and a bit unpredictable as a moth. She had never questioned this and had always felt quit content with her reality.

 But that day when she was standing in front of the mirror, with her violet her and navy-blue sweater, getting ready to leave her flat for work. That day she would meet someone that would slowly change the world she lived in.

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