Oh, honey, beauty is not skin deep.

Hate. the first thing that came to her mind every single day for the past 18
she suffered every day, of being scared of looking into herself. her brain convinced her that her fragile soul, was the servant of perfection. the one who lifts others up, but herself - down. 
painfully tired, she stood in front of the mirror, an awful critic, for the last time. she looked down with disappointment. her heart whispered, 'sweetheart, you were gifted with sight, stop letting it get distorted.' 
she looked back up. my goodness, would you look at this young goddess, standing here like the monsters under her bed, who kept tearing her down night after night, day after day, saying how she is not good enough for this world, they have won. 

Honey. open your eyes. All these details, all these imperfections, they aren’t so imperfect. can’t you see the beauty in them? She stood there, eyes glossed over. the look on her face? that is the look of defeat. she doesn’t know she is invincible. she is more than she anticipates. Oh, honey, beauty is not skin deep.
years. all those details in her body, her hips, her thin fingers, her short nails, her long legs, her childish face, the difference between her eyebrows, her small lips and her big nose, the scars on her thigh - all of them were something she would change to look like other girls. 

You need
to learn love.