"I hope people who are born with skinny bodies, flawless skin, and somehow balance out the processes of extra advanced hygiene with everything else, are REALLY happy. Sure what's inside is way more important than what is on the outside, but for even the most confident teenage girl, the outside matters still, to even some point. I mean I was born pretty. I had perfect porcelain skin, blue eyes and golden, naturally highlighted hair. The minute I hit puberty, I couldn't pass a mirror twice without looking in it and criticizing something in myself. And even sometimes before I could even do it, someone else could see it and tell me. There's really been very few times when I was sincerely called beautiful and not because it was forced by the situation, but randomly, out of blue; just like the sweetest surprise. I know he didn't mean anything by it and so I guess I don't even know why it hurt me. It's been so many years of this emotional self-abuse that I've afflicted onto myself that I can't accept myself for who I am no matter what is ever said or done to convince me of it. I look at the mirror on some days and I so much disgust comes bubbling up from inside me that it sickens me to such a depressing point where it makes my heart physically ache. That's why I've always craved someone to love me. To tell me that I'm beautiful equally. That show me the person in the mirror who apparently everyone tells me they see but who is so darkened in color in my eyes. It's so hard sometimes to always be surrounded by so many amazing and breath-taking beautifully angels and to know there's too slim of a chance that you'll ever get to be even half of them. And I bite my knuckles to relieve some of the pain on my heart. And I shut my eyes tightly to stop from rubbing my salty tears into my red raw skin. But maybe all I'm ever meant to do is sit and hug my teddy bear and hope for a miracle that'll never happen. "




I wrote what I wrote above a few months ago. I felt like that for quite a while. Even while I was awarded compliments by both genders once in a while, there would be times words would have no effect on me. Now, I'm sufficiently happy with who I am. It's quite true what they say:

There's no point in wasting your time crying.
There's no point to try convincing yourself you're not pretty.
To someone you're beautiful.
To someone you're everything.

To someone, you are the world.

I've found my beauty and I have my world.