“Stop."
“Stop what?” I asked.
“Saying I’m beautiful.”
“Why? it’s the truth..”
“It’s not. You don’t see me at the end of the day. You don’t see me trying to find the perfect outfit. You don’t see me in the mirror, so don’t you dare say I’m beautiful because I’m not.”
I shook my head, almost laughing. “You don’t fucking get it do you? You have no idea what you look like. You’re right, I don’t see you the way you see you...but, you also don’t see the way I see you. You don’t see how you laugh, or the way you tell a story, you don’t see the way your eyes light up when you talk about all the songs you love. You don’t see yourself asleep in my arms, or the way you look when you wake up. But I do, and that’s why I have every right to call you beautiful.”
