Looking at her.

I’m looking at her… and I’m wondering how in the world I can even come close to competing. 

She’s just a friend to you, but she’s already .. gorgeous. Pretty, smart, funny, cute, well-dressed, stylish and put-together. In comparison, I feel like a creature that crawled out of the swamps. I feel best when I’m in a t-shirt and jeans. You should see what I’m wearing right now – a teddy bear vest, grey hoodie and pajama pants. I look like a slob. 

I keep getting swept up by your words. Your sweet words. They come in every morning and drag me under this wave of forgetfulness. I forget who I am. I forget that I am a tomboy. I forget that I am a slob. I forget that I am nothing special. You make me think that I’m worth something… I forget that there is no fairy story written about the maid. It’s written about the princess. 

We’ve never met in person. You have no idea who I really am. Or maybe you do know who I am… you just don’t know the whole story. You don’t know what package it comes in… 

I hope I’m wrong. I hope that maybe you do see it all and that you want me anyways. I really wish that’s the case, but that is the stuff of fantasy and fairytales. And we all know, life is not a fairytale for the ugly and downtrodden. Life is not my fairytale. I am not a princess. I’m not even the maid that gets turned into a princess. I am just the maid that grows up and stays the maid. I get to watch the fairytale unfold in front of my eyes. That’s all. 

– L

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