Sorry

I see them searching, yearning to find something that does not meet their standards. I keep my head down and walk faster until I hear them lock on a target, "Hey girl, how was your summer? I didn't see you at the gym as much as you needed to be." I blink for a second before taking a sigh of relief, they didn't pick me today, and I keep walking. As long as it isn't me today.

I see the yellowish- green and I know what is happening yet I convince myself that I am seeing it wrong. Deep down though, I know that I do not see it wrong. I don't want to imagine who it is, who hurts them when they go home from work. I wish they could hide the bruises better, hide their pain better so I don't even need to know in the back of my mind. They can get over it, as long as it isn't me.

I wake up the next morning and I sit to drink my coffee. I open my tablet and I wander to the news. All I see are articles of the increasing suicide rate, domestic violence, and abuse. What is wrong with people? How can someone do that to another person? Yet after drinking my coffee, I walk to my car and I notice the girl walking home alone, small tears dripping from her face and I say that it must be the wind. I see them with bruises on their arms and legs, trying to hide the discolorations yet it hurts everytime they pick something up or move. But at least it isn't me.