You met her when she was perfect. You met her when her hair was wildly flowing everywhere, when she never had the thought of neatly tucking away every strand. You met her when her skin was flawlessly unmarked by makeup, when she never thought about drawing on a face. You met her when her body was a temple to her, when she accepted every little curve.
You met her when she loved herself.
And the person that she met was not you. She met the charming guy that would do anything to get her attention. She met the loving guy that would glance in her direction at any time of day. She met the supportive guy that would always be there with answers.
She met the guy that concealed the very worst of himself. The guy that would never admit to his erratic mood swings. That would never admit to his uncontrollable loud voice. That would never admit to his headstrong nature. The guy that would never admit to creating a flightless bird.
And the worst part was that you couldn’t see it. You couldn’t see the way she cried behind the bathroom curtain so that the water could drown out her aching tears. You couldn’t see the way that she knelt behind her bed to mask her trembling body. You couldn’t see the shattered pieces of her soul laying bare on the ground.
Even though you couldn’t see any of this, you still took.
You took every little thing that made her uniquely her.
Months would go by, and then years. You would pick off every sparkle that coated her hand-crafted soul, and she would let you. She would let you because she didn’t know any different. She would let you keep clipping her wings until the day a new light started shining within her. Until she felt a spark deep within her soul and a calling she couldn’t mistake.
She needed out.
She needed to be free.
She needed a hero, so that’s what she became. She became her own shining white knight, her own guardian, her own savior.
And next time someone comes up and asks to give her the world, she’ll reply “I have my own.”