I want to be special, I want to be able to look and say “*******, you’re beautiful” but I can’t do that, because every time I look in the mirror I see that, I see this, I see the little girl that I used to be and I want to grab her and I want to hold her, and I want to place her head against my chest to hear my heart beat, to hear our heart beat,    let her know that she still has a heart to beat to in the future. And as our deflated lungs inhale and exhale, she will drift through the mirror, but she will remember me, and she will know that her hands and feet have a purpose, that she has a purpose we have a purpose, and she will know that she doesn’t have to be the icing on top of the cake,   or an angle. And she will know that she is beautiful, and that she doesn’t have to prove it to anyone.