I always rewind back to the moment you were laying next to me and I would think you never felt the same because the scars on my cheeks, the imperfect body form my mother gave me, the short ugly hands with nails painted black, the uneven skin tone that would blush pink every time you'd smile at me.
I always told myself, if things were different like now.. I would make you think differently. The scars are less noticeable now, I hide my body better now, my nails are fake, my skin tone has correcting foundation, I can hide my butterflies better.
Then I realize. I was just fine before. 18 yet, experienced, independent, strong, pretty as now (if not prettier), and a better girlfriend than I would've ever been.
Then I realize. It's not me that was wrong, ugly and confused.
It was you.
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