"It’s easy to take off your clothes and have sex. People do it all the time. But opening up your soul to someone, letting them into your spirit, thoughts, fears, future, hopes, dreams… that is being naked." -Rob Bell
She walks down the road, the buildings loom up on each side. A canyon of stone, glass and warm, buzzing neon. Cars scuttle by busily; an army of a million tiny dots, like ants in a maze.
It's a warm July night, yet she feels so cold. Alone in this vast city.
A face amongst faces.
She's a smart girl.
She was the top of her class in high school, and she made the deans list in college...
If anyone took the time to get to know her, they'd be astounded by the intelligence within, brimming over the edges, spilling forth into her eloquently crafted sentences. A girl with untold possibilites; whether a writer in the making, an aspiring artist, or a successful business woman, each exceptionally viable option is hers for the taking.
People push by around her.
Distracted by texts, and hurriedly shuffling through papers.
Oblivious to the world around, they shove on, heads bent. Lost in thought...or perhaps prayer.
Because this city has a religion. It is a religion of it's own.
This city-god asks for life, and greedily accepts the sacrifices of its congregation through its own system of demi-gods.
Pursuit of money,
Those who live here often bow down in worship, simultaneously offering generous sacrifices of the one precious thing that has been given them. Life.
A sacrifice this place hungrily devours on a daily basis.
She's a beautiful girl, though no one seems to notice this fact as they bustle by.
To her left is a hall of images, encased in glass, illuminated brilliantly.
There are figures who reside in each window.
Airbrushed gods and goddesses.
They bear a standard emblazoned with perfection, their eyes, laughing, scrutinize each passerby. They know that no one can touch them, for there is a barrier that goes beyond the physical glass.
They are an illusion. They look down from a vantage which is unattainable, yet sought by many to attain.
The girl stops and glances into the brilliantly lit showcase. A woman, scantily clothed with perfect features casts a mocking, sultry glance over her to the crowds shuffling by beyond.
Her eyes roam over this particular goddess, drinking in every single detail; the smooth porcelain skin, the full lips which curl into a pseudo-smile, yet imply something more.
A figure that is on display for all to see and all to covet. This goddess is the embodiment of beauty...
At least...beauty, as this young woman has been raised to believe it to be.
But there is no soul behind those eyes, there is only physicality.
Only something for the men of this world to leer at.
The type of person who will never taste lonliness, and will always know companionship, if only for the wrong reasons.
Only something she'll never be...
It is in this moment that she wants to scream. To scream and not stop, until all the ugliness she feels inside melts away. The pain that this illusion has caused her, has taken an untold toll. She is not looked at for who she is, but only what she can offer. She is another piece of meat. Unremarkable. Unspectacular.
She wants to fall to her knees.
She's so tired.
She just wants a savior to take her out of this place.
To be free of the unadulterated insecurity that haunts her daily, and hounds her after dark.
Instead, she shoves.
She peels her eyes away from the model, turns and walks on.
Lost amid the sea of bodies, cigarette smoke, and dull neon lights.