There will always be girls with longer hair.
Always be girls with longer legs and leaner torsos.
There will always be girls who are better than me.
Girls that will make me pinch and poke my insecurities
until they bruise and bleed and look as ugly as I feel on the inside.
There will always be celebrities claiming that we are beautiful as we are but it’s hard to take them seriously when they can’t move their mouth because of all the Botox.
It’s hard to believe them when they’ve been through countless plastic surgery scandals.
It’s hard to believe our mothers when they tell us “you are perfect just the way you are” when what immediately follows them is
“suck in your stomach” or “Are you sure you want seconds?”
How are we supposed to believe our friends when we go out to the mall and they get constantly hit on, or whistled at by boys who look right through you?
It’s hard to believe anyone who tells us that we are beautiful, when they have long hair, clear skin, perfect legs and perfect body and a fucking perfect life.
When they are not us.
It’s hard to believe the words come out of people’s mouths, when all we know are the punches that fly from their lips.
It’s hard to believe them when we have been telling ourselves the opposite for as long as we can remember.
We don’t know “pretty” or “perfect”
we only know “ugly” and “not good enough”
They’re carved on our skin as a permanent reminder that we will never be as the other people that surround us.
But then one day when I’m siting in my shrinks office she tells me;
“5 good things. Tell me 5 things that you like about yourself, that aren’t physical” She stumps me for a second but then the words seem to flow out of my mouth, and I come to a sudden realization about myself.
I may not have the things other girls do, but I realize I have my own things to love.
Some girls may have long legs but I have long fingers that are perfect for holding a pen.
You might have long hair but I have endless thoughts that spin out of my fingertips like the fire that flies out of a dragons mouth.
and while other people may wipe their tears away on tissue and throw them away
I gather them into my pen and preserve my pain on paper.
I love the way people tell me my words understood them like no one else could.
I love the way my words can make someone feel less alone.
And I didn’t have some epiphany about how I really am beautiful, or perfect, because the truth is that I still hate myself most days.
Sometimes I pass time my looking at everyone in a room with me and choosing what body parts I would like from them.
Sometimes I wish I was someone else.
But what I did learn was that you’re stuck with who you are.
Whether you like it or not.
But the trick is to remember 5 good things.
because one day 5 good things
will turn into 10.
and then you’ll finally realize that you like every inch of yourself.
Your scraped knees and the hills of your hips.
You’ll realize that what used to be the bad
is now the good
because thats what makes you, YOU!
Now, if it makes it an easier remember that there are others wishing their eyes shined as bright as yours
Or that they could be as skinny as you, or as curvy.
Someone wishes they had the things you don’t even know you have because you are to busy wishing you were someone else.
Someone out there wants to be you.
And you want to be someone out there.
But the truth is,
You are you.
And thats the best you
you can be.