Superficial

Angela sat with her friends at the lunch table. They all chatted and giggled and exchanged gossip while

I watched from across the cafeteria. Angela's light brown complexion and beautifully dark eyes and rich flowing hazel hair all complimented her in a beautiful way. I knew, though, that she was broken inside. I knew that she was simply getting by and not actually living. She didn't feel emotions, or at least not like I did. Instead, she would put on a pretend smile and act as if everything was fine. I knew things weren't, though. I could tell by her laugh that inside of her she was screaming for someone to save her. She was drowning in her insecurities, being suffocated by her mountain of superficiality. I could see, though, that she wasn't like the rest of the preps at school. She was honest and sincere, maybe even a bit of an in depth thinker. She knew that she couldn't be deep and popular at the same time. She had to sacrifice one or the other, and the decision she made was obvious. She held her pain behind her mask of makeup and fake smiles. I wanted to reach out to her, to implore her to become her own person and to help her branch out from who others want her to be. The question was this, though: what could I possibly do to save her from her illusion of popularity and to free her from her circle of artificial friends?