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Wednesday, September 20, 2017

just write: seven letter lie.

you are not perfect;
anyone who has told you so was a liar. 
but they were also blind, 
and did not look closely enough. 
if they had, they would have seen you
and seen that your so-called-imperfections 
are what make you incredible. 
the crinkles around your eyes from years of laughing and
the chip in your tooth from that one time that one summer and 
your stretch marks from when you grew into yourself and
your anxiously-bitten nails because you care so much and 
your laugh that is so loud, so different that strangers must turn around to look at your joy and 
your splotchy birthmarks and 
your frizzy hair and 
your sometimes-stutter and 
how tears spring to your eyes over any emotion. 
what an insult. 
what a lie. 
you are a vast ocean of imperfection
and anyone who has been lucky enough to watch your waves crash knows
you could never be summed up in that 
seven letter
l i e . 
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