Beautiful isn't perfect.
Beautiful is tired eyes and a small smile that knows you'll try again.
Beautiful is the joy in your laughter and the sincerity in your tears, the look on your face when someone surprises you, the stars in your eyes when you see the one you love.
Beautiful is not being perfectly fine. Beautiful is accepting that you're broken and beginning to accept yourself for who you are. Beautiful is trying.
Beautiful is not smooth. Beautiful is scars and tattoos and piercings and freckles and ridges and bumps, like a topography across your body of what you've experienced.
Beautiful is not completely cool.
Beautiful is the blush you get that matches the butterflies in your stomach and the way you tap your fingers or jiggle your leg when you're excited. Beautiful is the way the sun falls across your skin when you wake up to a new day and smile for a second just because you're here.
Beautiful is not simple.
Beautiful is the stars in your eyes and the galaxies in your soul, the butterfly sanctuary in your stomach and the library of information in your mind, the knowing and the scars and the small triumphs in your heart.
Beautiful is not perfect.
Beautiful is weak and strong, quiet and loud, straightforward and infinitely complex.
Beautiful is you.
