The notion of people judging someone on their appearance is the equivalent of gauging the coziness of a bed by how extravagant it looks.
Maybe I’m just coming up with excuses for not being ‘above average’ in the way I look but even then, I believe that there is more to us. More to you.
In the way that you run your hands through the feathers of your seat when you’re nervous or in the way you turn your head away when someone catches you looking at them and your hair is covering your eyes.
You forget that you are pretty in the way that you are. Not in the way he is or she is but by being you.
See, you don’t get the luxury of watching yourself hum to your favourite songs while making tea at two in the morning or scrunching you eyebrows when you’re adding a book. You don’t get to hear the way you voice sounds to me when you’re telling me everything that is wrong with the world. How the news is inaccurate not in the sense that they report false news but by what they don’t say on television. You have never seen your eyes when you say the words I needed to hear after a bad day, you have never seen the soft smile and the rhythmic way your fingers move when you say goodbye.
You are soul crushingly beautiful. I promise that you are. Everybody has seen the famous painting of Mona Lisa but only da Vinci knows how truly breath-taking she was. Similarly everyone can see you but only a few will know how absolutely ethereal you are.