Part of a work in progress

         
    It had taken me years to figure out that Jessica was as close to a chameleon as a person could get.  The girl had so many faces, it was hard to tell which one was real, if there was even a real Jessica at all.  I have to admit, the first time we met I was enthralled by her.  Everyone always was.  She had an unnatural talent for drawing people to her; from the outside, she appeared to be perfect.  Jessica was beautiful, outgoing, social, funny, and everything else that society generally requires of its accepted members.  She was everything I could never be, or at least so I thought at the time.  Eventually I would figure out that I was wrong both about myself and about her.  It no longer matters anyhow.  Jessica is dead.