Dear Diary,
I try really fucking hard to see the beautiful things about me, but I cant. I just can't.
When I look at others, I can easily point out the unique yet attractive things about them. Their eye color, their cute little button nose, the shape of their lips.
But when I'm standing in front of a mirror, I see nothing but a body full of failure, secrets and sadness.
But no matter how much I Cry because I hate what I see when I look at myself, I refuse to think bad about myself because I believe that everyone has beautiful things about them. Even me.
