She was a girl, a uniquely regular girl. At first glance a stranger, male or female, would think, 'that is a beautiful looking person,' and they would be correct. They would even wish that they knew her, that maybe life could be sweet enough to them to allow them to be a part of that girl's life. Many would think that such a beautiful woman would never spend a thought on someone like themselves. I have been that person, and I have never been more wrong.
She is regular because she will take on a new friendship with another person, anyone really. She is unique because she could fit the part of a high profile socialite surrounded by desperate wannabees if she wanted to, yet she remains regular. She remains down to earth, remains a friend to the lowest on the social totem pole. She is unique because she could sit on the highest tier of the same totem pole, but chooses to be blind to it.
She is regular because she hurts. She may be unique because of what causes her to hurt, but she regularly deals with her unique pains. She could be regular and decide that her own problems are sufficient enough for her to have a free pass on worrying about other's pains, but she chooses to be unique and to offer a thousand shoulders to a thousand different heads, while her own is plagued by her own unique struggles.
She is regular because she lives among regulars, she is unique because she is an angel among men .
