Flaws. One puts their flaws at the wrong end of the telescope, projecting them onto other planets (or persons). Tiny pinpoints that twinkle and reflect, at once noticeable, yet indistinct, until someone points out the Big Bear you thought was only a little bear.

Standing on the sidelines, pondering the scene and thinking about how we are judged and how we judge others.

It’s the prom – 1989. The music plays, Thompson Twins spewing forth that we need someone to hold me now, and the situation itself lends to this sentiment.

Instead, I’m holding a cup of (terrible) punch, watching others have a good time.

I wonder why I came.

But I know why.

I’m driven by hope; the hope of being noticed and verified – by him. I watch and wait, expectant.

Karen, my friend, is out there mingling as she does so well. Dancing with everyone, all the boys AND girls. They all love her.

She looks over at me, gesturing that I should come join her. I slowly shake my head, content to wallow in my misery. She pulls a face at me and continues in her reverie.

I just want Anthony to notice me. He is the only reason that I agreed to put myself through this torture. My introverted bones scream to be released from this hell. My mind fights the urge to leave.

My favorite teacher, Mr Jones, sees me in my solitude, decides to rescue me from myself, and asks me if I care to dance. No, no thank you. I’m fine.

Undaunted, he starts to talk about what is happening in front of our eyes. He points out the scenery: Joan’s beautiful blue dress; layers of taffeta sweeping the ground, swirling as she turns in the arms of her date, whose shimmering blue shirt perfectly complements her cascading finery. He points to a couple who are whispering in each other’s ears. They erupt into laughter as we watch.

I begin to feel even more isolated. I try to excuse myself so I can be alone with my pain and loneliness. He refuses to be dismissed.

“Would you care to dance?”

I beg off, yet again, but stick by his side.

I see, off in the shadows, a girl, solo; looking at her feet, unaware of what is happening around her. I wonder what is like to be her.

I am seized by a gripping thought – I AM HER…

She is so focused on her flaws that she cannot see beyond her microscopic reality.

Me.

Through my telescope, which I’ve turned around so I can see clearer, I look.

I ask Mr. Jones to go ask the lonely girl to dance, and with surprised face, he acquiesces. I watch him approach her, see her face alight with joy as they hit the dance floor.

Feeling a sense of good, right, I drop my reserve, walk to the dance floor and cut in on Anthony’s dance partner. His face falls.

I crumble.

Then he smiles broadly and takes me in his arms.

I’m ecstatic, and realize that I didn’t have to wait for him to ask ME to dance.