Don’t tell me I’m pretty. I did not choose the way my features aligned themselves or the texture of my hair or the color of my skin. Tell me I have a beautiful mind. Tell me you love my honesty. Tell me the way the rain makes me happy that makes you happy. Compliment me on things I’ve worked on, on the things I’ve developed. Don’t tell me I’m ugly. I did not choose the way my features aligned themselves or the texture of my hair or the color of my skin. Tell me the way I enter a room as a hurricane infuriates you. Tell me my tactlessness hurts you and everyone around me. Tell me my inappropriate mouth is offensive and crude. Criticize me on things I can change, make me a better person. I don’t care about how you think I look.
– This-was-meant-to-be
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