Nothing is more beautiful than me.
My laughter rings out like a hundred tiny bells or blares like a fog horn, depending on my mood.
Sometimes I do it when I’m nervous.
You wish you had hair like mine. Naturally wheat blonde, it’s long and thick and lustrous.
And when I let it down, it covers my body.
You may feel inferior around me. I own every room I walk into. How could you live up to that?
My self-standards are harsher than you can imagine, too.
I always seem to know everything about everything, don’t I? And what I don’t know much about, I disdain.
If you could only hear how I talk to myself…
My smile can light up a room. You probably wonder how I’m always so happy and ready to laugh.
Do you want to know the truth? It’s exhausting.
I have the body of a goddess. A tiny waist and a striking hourglass shape. I always look flawless.
But you’d see my flaws too, if I let you.
So there it is. We are all just trying to keep it together. I’m as confused and imperfect as I know you are.
And we are each of us our own worst critics.
The more we grasp at our illusions, the finer the dust that slips through our fingers. I’m ready to say it aloud now: I’m flawed and I’m flustered.
But nothing – you heard me, nothing – is more beautiful than me.