Becky

Oppression Always Wins

The first time I saw Lily, she was wearing a bright yellow dress. She had a brown leather belt around her waist, which snatched the dress to her perfectly curved body. Her hair was dark brown, packed in a cute bun and fastened with a blue, flowery band. She had eyes like the sun: dazzling, clear and mesmerizing. When her lips parted in a smile, she looked unreal, like something out of a painting. On our first meeting, she said something to me, but I was too stunned to hear. Her voice was flawless, soothing to the ear and smooth as honey. I wondered if someone could be this perfect. I admired her at first; then, I despised her. I hated her for making me hate myself.