I smiled at the mirror, feeling content with what I saw.
I couldn't believe how much power a piece of worn ivory paper could hold. I didn't see my eyes that were too round, not my lips that weren't full, not my nose that didn't have a perfect slope, not my cheeks that were too fat, and not my skin that wasn't flawless.
I took the piece of paper again, reading the words I wrote eight years ago when the world hasn't dictated me yet about how "beautiful" should look like.
"Everything I see in the mirror everyday may not be perfect, but I would never need to be perfect to be beautiful. I'm me, and that's always good enough."
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