Her name was Arden. She resembled the typical high school student, trying to find an identity of her own but at the same time trying to not stand out. Her hair went down a few inches below her hips, and was the color of fresh lemonade reflecting sunlight with mixed in brown streaks the shade of the melting Fudgesicles. Somehow, her hair naturally pulled this off and actually looked decent. It was one thing she seemed to be proud of. During October and the following months, she’d dye the bottom layer of her hair temporarily pink.
The eyes she had were nothing extraordinary, yet there was something about them. Looking into her eyes wasn’t like looking into any other green-eyed girl. It was…different. It was like you could feel the pain and sorrow, falling into the pit of your stomach. You would want to turn away but you were just so intrigued. The mixture of spring greens and freshwater lake blues, with a dash of shimmering gold pulled people in, never releasing them.
Her freckles were faint, and only became visible in the summer months. She had scattered birth marks along her jaw line, and tiny matching ones on either side of her nose.
Arden’s waist curved inwards as if it was molded clay, and her stomach was flattened, even concave at times. You could tell how terribly insecure she was about her thighs, as they were her largest feature. Her calfs were slim and feet not so petite. Her arms were thin enough to wrap two fingers around the thickest part. She was rathe unproportional.
Arden was no head turner, and blended in with the crowd. She would wear whatever she wanted, which typically was oversized bands tees and flannels. She was in the process of becoming comfortable in her own skin, although she had so long to go.
You could easily tell what she was passionate about simply from the way she spoke of it. Her eyes would light up in a way they never had, and she was full of instantaneous energy. Writing was a part of her soul that she felt so deeply, so wholly that she couldn’t not write. It was that simple. She had to write, otherwise she’d not be sane.
She adored music in ways she couldn’t formulate into words, even with her love for language. Music could put all she’s ever thought and felt into something so perfectly beautiful. She put her entire soul into the artists and bands she loved, as they had saved her from so much.
Arden felt more for others than she felt for herself. She was never her own first priority, for if she had the chance to impact someone in a positive way, that’d be joyous for them both. She found happiness in happiness of others.