What a shame. We grew up never believing that we were beautiful,
because no one ever told us that we were. We made friends who liked to complain about their stomachs, noses, and the size of their thighs. And we joined in because that's what you do, isn't it? And so, we never told ourselves, either.
In 8th grade, a boy we barely knew calls us fat. We will never know if he
was joking, or why. We were bullied about our long, messy hair. So we chop it all off. And we became invisible. It was years before we resurfaced, before we learned to do things just for the sake of ourselves.
Someone tells us we're beautiful, and now, we don't believe them. But, we
have new friends and they tell us, too. And then we hear it from a stranger. Mom apologizes for not telling us enough when we were younger. And slowly, we start to belive it. And now, we know.
We know that, despite everything we'd been told, being beautiful has
nothing to do with our worth. But, how unfortunate, we think, that we couldn't know we were beautiful until someone else told us that we were.
We were never even told it was an option.
destabilise
Hale_Storm18
blue*