Beautiful
By Kristen Bartlett
Copyright © 1999, All Rights Reserved
So tell me. Do you hate me? Do you not
want to be my friend? I never asked
you for any of that. In fact, all I did
was love you, and I really wouldn't
say that's a crime, unless of course,
you would. It was always about you; you
know that? Always. And I can't for the
love of God decide whether I wanted
you or who you are. Although I do know
that whatever I wanted, I wanted it
with a passion. Do you not love me
because I'm ugly? Is that it? Because I
know I am. God just didn't give me
beauty; and for one thing, I don't care.
I can't help not having innocent eyes
and a perfect figure just as you can't
help being the asshole that you are.
Born that way, I guess. You hurt my
feelings today. And I'm fairly sure
that you didn't even realize it. Just
something you said on impulse that was
forgotten about a second later. But
when I got in the car to go home, I
still hadn't forgotten it. It's the way
you are. I never gave a damn about what
anyone thought about me, and then you
go around changing it. It's like . . .
well let me just say that I'm looking
forward to the day you leave. And I
can't wait for the rest of my life when
I
never see you or hear your voice.
Because I'm going to be something. And
now,
you see me, and think I'm no special
person. You see me and make your
judgements . . . your decisions. But it
won't always be that way. Because
tomorrow you'll see that I may not be
pretty . . . but I will be beautiful.
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