Why don't I look like them?
Why can't I be..
them?
It would seem simple.
Right?
Wash your hair..
Put on some lipstick.
Done.
Right?
But what if it's not as simple as that?
What if it's more than genetics
and all that crap.

Why do I feel the need to compare myself?
To them.
People who don't even exist.
I mean look at her.
Perfect body.
Perfect hair.
Perfectly...

happy.

But she's not real.
She's in the pages of a magazine.
She's made to sell.
We don't know her secrets.
We don't know the pain that occurred
all for those lips.
For that body we crave for so much.
We don't know what work she put into herself.
Beauty is not simple.
It is not easy.
It is fought for.
The beauty and happiness you crave isn't real.
Behind that smiling face is
pain...
unimaginable.