Hey all, I just wanted to experiment with second person. I read this boring article for class that was in second person and wrote this instead of listening to the boring lecture. I disclaim.

_______________

You're a plain girl with a big heart. You're not the rich girl with all the right clothes and sophistication. You know you'll never be that girl because you are the quirky one.

The funny one.

The cute one.

You're not even sure you want to be the beautiful one, but there are times when you dream it. Times when you're the one the men whistle at instead of Belle or Chloe. When you're the one that stops traffic and gets freebies because you're so gorgeous. And you know it's shallow and you're not shallow, but it's easy to dream it.

You're in love with Rex Dimera.

You wouldn't deny it if someone asked.

No one asks.

They don't think about you that way.

To them you're Mimi, the girl that makes them smile. They confide in you, but their ears are deaf to your problems.

And you let them get away with it.

You shrug your shoulders and hold up the weight of the world. You let yourself believe that it's better that way. It's better if your love for Rex is a secret, because then no one can take it away.

He's an intelligent man, with blue eyes that you swear change colour depending on his mood.

You like to look into those eyes.

When they're greenish-blue he's relaxed and cheery. When the flecks of brown overtake the green and the blue is all but lost, you can't read his mood. You almost fear him, but he gives you a smile and everything is fine. When those eyes turn blue it's your eyes he's looking into.

And that makes your stomach clench and the blood flow through your body like a wave.

You can't believe he has chosen you. You're afraid to speak because you think you'll say the wrong things and he'll realize his mistake and leave you.

You think of him because it's so much easier than talking. It's easier to have the conversations in your own head because no one can see how you really feel and no one can make fun of thoughts that you never say out loud.

You think of the way his body feels against yours. How he touches you and tongues your invisible tears away. You think you see something akin to love in his eyes, but even you know it can't be real.

No man that perfect could possibly really be interested. But he stays with you and holds you close to his naked flesh and it is the closest thing to feeling beautiful you'd ever experienced. When you wake up the next morning and he was still there, you are surprised.

You can still see his golden spikes of hair a mess on your pillow and hear the beating of his heart under your ear. You remember the feel of his fingertips on your naked back.

Warm.

Strong.

Foreign.

You hate your name, but you love when he sighs and calls you Miriam with such fondness you nearly weep.

You realize he's probably used you and you don't care. You'd do it all over again to see that look in his eyes.

That look that makes you feel like the beautiful one.

No one has ever looked at you that way.

And you fear no one ever will again.

You don't know that you're more than some image other people paint of you. You don't think you're strong and smart.

And you don't want to believe they way he looks at you. You don't want to see how his eyes light up when you walk in a room. You don't want to believe that he dreams about you. That he loves the feel of your skin as it dances with his. That when he whispers sweet words into your ear, you think they are lies.

You can't believe it because you want to be beautiful, but to him...you already are.