All my life, I've lived with no one knowing what I truly looked like. I was the only one who knew it. Who knew what I really was like. Everyone just saw me as their kind of beautiful. It was both a blessing and a curse because no one ever liked me for who I was. I was just beautiful to them, and not to me.
I became depressed because I felt unloved. I felt like I would never be appreciated for who I was. The guy I loved only saw me as his kind of girl which in reality, I wasn't.
One day, I tried to kill myself. I felt I was doing but the world and myself a big favor. I would have jumped, but this guy dragged me back, and stopped. Obviously, I lashed out on him and said things. Things I probably didn't even mean. He simply smiled and told me to give him three days. Three days to prove to me that life was worth living and if I wasn't cool with it, he'd throw me off the bridge himself. I didn't know why, but I said yes.
In those three days, I began to like him because he was my kind of guy. Smart, caring, handsome,...he was rich too. Then, on the third day, I asked him one question. "Can you tell me what I look like to you?" He raised a brow. "Please. It will make me happy or sad." I muttered the last part under my breath.
He sighed and said, "You have midnight black curly hair, and the most beautiful caramel skin color I have ever seen. You have these cute freckles lining up your nose and your eyes are hazel and large..." I began to cry, and I jumped into his arms. I was his definition of beautiful. He awkwardly hugged me back and I pulled away. "What did I say? Did I hurt you?"
I stared at him through tear-filled eyes. "I... I am beautiful."
He grinned. "Of course, you are. You're the most beautiful girl I have ever seen."
He didn't understand. I didn't explain. I just stayed crying. And that, my friends, was my reason to live.