You don't believe this even though you've heard this plenty of times before. You've heard it in the songs you listen to on your down time and from the people in your life who love you dearly. I've told you you're beautiful before, time and time again; and I know I'm not the only one you've heard it from, but it still means nothing to you. I thought if I were to write it down and hold your hand through difficult times; maybe you would believe it for once. Maybe you would finally believe that all the little things you do are beautiful, because they were from the start and still are.
Maybe when you read this you'll see yourself differently, and you'll smile and your steps won't be as choppy. You won't be afraid to cry or let you words get lost, because you're still beautiful in those moments; because you always try to pick yourself back up in the end. The little things that built you suddenly won't go to waste, so maybe you won't sleep so restlessly or think about if you weren't here tomorrow.
Though I may not understand what you're going through, and we have our differences; you'll never be more beautiful or perfectly imperfect. Because you're the definition of life and what it means to survive in a world so cold, and life is better with you in it.
