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Description
A letter to myself to be read when I felt blue. So I could remember that at the time when this was written, I genuinely thought I was gorgeous. Because for most of the time human memory is far too short.

Bodies live incredibly bizzare lives. No matter how pretty they are or how well they function, someone will always do their damndest to find fault with the poor things.

Don't look at me like that, you know who you are.

But there remains that all-encompassing question, Why?

Why go to so much effort to point out the slightest inferiority in an otherwise brilliant work of art? So what if someone's got streach marks or is too skinny? Who cares if they're covered in hair or have alopecia? Does it really matter that much?

We're all different, weird, normal, funny, emotional, spiteful, kind, slow, quick, incredible, beautiful, brilliant human beings. What does it matter how ugly we think we are?

Description
A letter to myself to be read when I felt blue. So I could remember that at the time when this was written, I genuinely thought I was gorgeous. Because for most of the time human memory is far too short.

Bodies live incredibly bizzare lives. No matter how pretty they are or how well they function, someone will always do their damndest to find fault with the poor things.

Don't look at me like that, you know who you are.

But there remains that all-encompassing question, Why?

Why go to so much effort to point out the slightest inferiority in an otherwise brilliant work of art? So what if someone's got streach marks or is too skinny? Who cares if they're covered in hair or have alopecia? Does it really matter that much?

We're all different, weird, normal, funny, emotional, spiteful, kind, slow, quick, incredible, beautiful, brilliant human beings. What does it matter how ugly we think we are?