A young girl/woman/lady stares into the screen of a desktop computer, tapping away the minutes and hours. Hairspray coats the roots of her teased up hair- not unlike something from the nineteen eighties.  She taps and taps...
Acne marks her complexion, overpoweringly large breasts rule over her wardrobe, but her pant size remains a fairly modest thirteen. This body could be beautiful: could be, should be, maybe?
Her heart lays smooth and bare, unmarked as newly chiseled onyx and endless as the diameter of a sphere; unclaimed and untouched by a jeweler, but beaten  to the point of cracking by everyday people. A few exist, for this gem to adorn, for her to compliment and be noted. To be looked upon with favor, even for a moment... it was precious.