You could say that I envied her. Her perfect teeth, glamorous body. You could say that I was vulnerable to the subtle lies of men. Not as she. You could say that I was a grade more oblivious then her, then anybody really. You could even say that I wasn't seen under the same light as she. Not as if my mother's constant need for comparison didn't make me feel any worse, but her mother's lack of it made it almost illicit for me to see her as anything but superior to what I could ever imagine myself being. You could say that she was sure of herself. And you could see how I envied her for her assurance. So yes, you wouldn't just say that I envied her, but you would believe it. Lest did I know that surety was far from her heart, how her only true breathtaking attribute was her ability to conceal. The beautiful mask she wore, of a strong independent, sure young lady. The day she took it off, I will never forget...
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