I was always alone.

I wrote it in swift calligraphy. Loops on all the letters.

Until I met you.

This was the second line, and I already felt the need to sit down, cry, and hopefully finish this up before midnight.

Society is dirt. It tells us lies.

It told me to be dirt. That I'm nothing better than that, and I never would be.

I wanted to get all my feelings out. I was flawed. A torn, angry soul consumed by what everyone else decided I should be.

You're too fat. Too skinny. Too ugly. Not pretty.

It killed me inside.

I was sobbing by now, every minute or so, tracing the tear stains forming on my paper. I didn't want them to fade.

If I plaster makeup five inches thick, become a slut, and lost all sense of who I am,

Will I be good enough?

My friends had started to move on. To go their own ways. We were all just out of college.

I didn't know them anymore.

You said I was perfect. I didn't need to change.

Then why am I constantly being told that?

How many hours have I been bawling my eyes out, just to finish this?

"You are beautiful,"

Says the 'encourager'.

We all know someone, that says you're beautiful no matter what.

But how can they say that if they worry about their own flaws?

I loved you.

I love you.

I will love you.

Memories flashed through my head. I felt blinded, muted, helpless.

The world was enclosing on a certain point, in which it chose me.

"Mikan… Mikan!"

Who said that? Can you truly differ realism to illusions?

The next thing I know, I felt arms wrapping around my body, holding me tight. I didn't have to be told by who. The tears, that made my vision blurry, started to drip down, over my cheek, a jagged line.

But I'm too flawed.

Not good enough.

The next thing I realized, the paper was being ripped to shreds. But not by me.

I was running to my bathroom. In a swift turn, I looked at myself in the mirror. The girl I saw didn't look like she belonged here. That tangled, long, disgusting hair. Those red eyes that consumed her face. The nose that was too big, the mouth too small.

Who am I?

I wasn't sure anymore. As I reached for the scissors, I heard a pounding on my door.

He was crying, too. And I caused it.

I fiddled with the doorknob for a second, before twisting it.

Hazel eyes met crimson.

"Mikan!"

This time I knew for sure. He was calling out my name.

I was going to respond.

"Everything is going to be alright…," he whispered in my ear. I reached around to hug him, like he was my lifeline.

I nodded, though my tear stains stained my cheeks.

"You're beautiful."

He always had meant it. I just always refused to believe him. I always looked towards my flaws instead of my beauty.

This time, I believed him.

XxXxX

Author's Note: I started this, and wasn't sure if I should finish it.

There comes a time when you wake up, and realize that you ARE beautiful. I really hope you find this time, soon.

-Ashe