How could she stand up there, on the stage, a big smile on her face, knowing I deserve that crown? It did fit well above her straight blonde hair. I could feel her ocean eyes piercing my soul, cutting through the rigidness of my anger. Her fairly tan skin went well with the lighting. Would my skin look well with it? Her wide smile was like a cry, her pearl white teeth pleading for her to feel this feeling of winning forever. She can’t win forever, can she? All I need is her thin waist, her blonde hair, and her appearance. And of course not to forget, her piering bright ocean eyes. But there she stands, on stage with a crown and shash.