When I first learned that no one could ever love me more than me a world of happiness previously unseen was discovered because somewhere along the line of aging and scrutiny and time I was taught to despise myself but I made sure I kept myself beautiful so someone would love me someday so I could belong to someone someday because that's the most important thing a little girl could ever want, right? I was thirteen the first time I was embarrassed about my body of course it would not be the last and I remember stuffing my bra in the morning with tears stinging my eyes hoping, praying to something that I could look beautiful enough today, braces and all, for the ruthless boys who mercilessly told me I was worthless because my boobs weren't big enough and I would go home and put on a sweatshirt with my eyes closed, deny myself the right to be shown myself, because I didn't dare want to insinuate beauty in regards to something so insulting as my body. But I mean we all end up with our heads between our knees because the only place we'll ever truly feel safe is curled up inside skin we've been taught to hate by a society that shuns our awful confidence and feeds us our own flaws and sometimes when I need to meet the me that loves me, I can't find her, a reminder that the mirror is meant to be a curse so I confine her in my mind but when when he or she shouts let me out we're allowed to listen. But it's met by a chorus of conceited egotistical narcissist but since when was self solicitude a sin? since when was loving who we are made an offense by morons that don't matter change this physicality and that one, don't you shatter the illusion you could ever be anything beyond paper fine flesh and flashy teeth and fingernails echoic accusations of not good enough, never good enough have you ever felt so numb that it hurts entertain me whore you can't surrender to them you gotta remember you're the only thing you'll ever truly have and no I don't mean your body because someday it'll go bad no matter what you do I mean you I mean the way your bright eyes go wild when you smile and how your laughter's so melodic it's a song I mean the way your creativity's a compass that leads you to what you love and you don't need any miracle cream to keep your passions smooth, hair free or diet pills to slim your kindness down and when you start to drown in these these petty expectations you better examine the miracle of your existence because you're worth so much more than your waistline you're worth the beautiful thoughts you think and the daring dreams you dream, undone and drunk off alcohol of being but sometimes we forget that because we live in a word where the media pulls us from the womb nurses us and teaches us our first words skinny pretty skinny pretty girls soft quiet pretty boys manly muscles pretty but I don't care whether it's your gender, your looks, your weight, your skin, or where your love lies none of that matters because standards don't define you you don't live to meet credentials established by a madman you're a goddamn treasure whether you wanna believe it or not and maybe that's what everyone should start looking for.