Ashley, I feel like it’s a weird place to say, but...I have this terribly wonderful image in my head of...Well, of you. You, standing in some picture-perfect flowey field. You, in the most beautiful dress I’ve ever seen, it’s skirt flowing in the breeze. You, smiling with true happiness that I’ve never actually seen on you. You, without scars. You, without fear. You, without regret. Flawless, perfect...but I cry whenever I try to explain it because it’s not real. I cry because you’re not actually like that; you’re not actually perfect, flawless, no scars, no fear, no regret. I don’t cry because I wish you were like that, but instead because that’s how I see you, and I know you don’t see yourself the safe way. So I cry. I cry because you don’t think you can be like that; perfect, flawless, no scars, no fear, no regret.
Just thought I’d tell you.
