Plastic Provo

I could practically see the gleam of fakeness resonating from them.
I was at his concert and I had this extremely uncomfortable feeling in the pit of my stomach. I watched all the people around me. It seemed so ridiculous. They all seemed to be determined to stand out in the most conformist way possible. It was like they were trying to be rebellious in a way that wasn't really that rebellious. And there was traditional style going on, t-shirts and undershirts peeking, long shorts and flats. Nothing was wrong with this look besides that it was way over-used. It was a walking cliche. Three girls in particular drove me insane. They were all glitzed up, almost in a rocker looking style, but it was all in order, every hair in place. I regretted feeling judgment for them, but they seemed surreal, and it made me uncomfortable. I am not sure what it was about them, whether it be the way they carried themselves or the socializing they conducted. But it gave me the shivers, and the acid in my stomach threatened to burn my throat.
One girl made me smile.
She was wearing these ridiculous parachute pants with lots of chains, and had dark scraggly hair. All her clothes were black. But watching her, I truly fell in love with her personality. Every once in a while, a real, genuine smile would light up her face, showing the gap in her teeth. She was so imperfect, she was perfect to me. I can't tell you what it was about her, but I knew she was misunderstood, and didn't feel seen for who she was, but was happy all the same, and a very sweet girl.
I left content never to experience high school again, glad of where I was and who my friends were, and how genuine and intellectual they were. Or how caring.
People who strove to better themselves, and possibly, the world.