The plane you see

It reflects a little piece of me.

Obba Immaculata.
Literally Literary
2 min readMar 2, 2020

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https://images.pexels.com/photos/948354/pexels-photo-948354.jpeg?cs=srgb&dl=eye-girl-mirror-948354.jpg&fm=jpg

Can you see me? Can you? I show you this phase, this side, this part. This happy reflection of me. Never angry. Never taking offense. But Can you See me?

You smile, enthralled. Captivated, perhaps. “Let’s go on a date”, you say. We sit together and you go on about your life. I don’t respond. You refuse to notice my lack of enthusiasm. It doesn’t exist in your world. Definitely not in your image of me. Baby, do you see me?

I meet you together with your friends. We laugh together. They rave about how perfect we look together. Unconsciously, my brows furrow. Is it true, or is it just the mandatory talk friends give? You smoothen my wrinkled brows, giving me that smile I hate so much. A smile a correcting father gives to his wayward daughter. I guess in your narrow view of me, it is remarkable that I hold a strong opinion, unthinkable that I can firmly express it.

You come to my apartment. You’re unlucky today. I’m in a heated argument with my roommate. You silently walk in and refuse to see my furious expression. I welcome you grudgingly, obviously not in the mood for small talk. My roommate mutters something under her breath, and I glare at her, fired up, daring her to say one more word. You stare at the note in your hand, foolishly oblivious. She gets the hint, and shuts up, walking away. I don’t want to chat. I don’t want to laugh. I ask you if we could study some other time. You stare at me, extremely surprised. Then, you say, “Let’s study now. Get over yourself. It’s not that serious. ”

Dumbfounded, I gawk at you. It’s not that serious? Fury ignited, I pick up a shoe. You hesitated, your mistake. Whack! I got you smack on the thigh.

You look like I might have grown three heads. Red in the face, you yell about how you refuse to date a rascal, and how I’m definitely not the girl you fell for.

But yes! you’re right. You never fell for me. You fell for one of the thousand edges of a multidimensional facet, forgetting that each glows differently.

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Obba Immaculata.
Literally Literary

Lover of God. Interested in Reading 📚and then writing🖋.