The Struggling Beauty

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Summary

Beauty is pain. Pain is something we all have to go through. In a society where there is a mindset of the perfect picture, no one will ever appreciate your qualities. A teenager, named May, has been impacted by the picture. On top of that, the world is full of fakes and liars. In a world with both, there is danger. The danger of self-hate. May is waiting for a real appreciation. Waiting for an acceptance.

Status
Ongoing
Chapters
3
Rating
n/a
Age Rating
16+

Rosie 🌹

She turned around. I saw her face. Her eyes, blue as they can be, shimmering. The long and knotted eyelash flapped as she blinked. Her lengthy, champagne blonde hair was covering her back. As she smiled, her thin rose lips stretched, creating two dimples on each pale cheek.

"Oh, hi." She spoke, revealing dazzling white rows of teeth. Her voice was so soft and soothing I was eager to hear it again.

"Hey..."

"Do you like what I'm wearing? Or should I change it?" She was wearing a white dress that had purple flowers on it with a brown butterfly zip-up hoodie. She quickly grabbed her white bow and adjusted it on her slicked hair.
"You look great. No need to change." She seemed relieved.
"Can you pick a pair of shoes for me, please May?" I reached for a pair of white platform ankle boots and handed them to her. "Thanks." She sat down on the pink beanbag chair and put them on with her cream leg warmers. She sensed that I was observing her so she glanced up at me. "May..."
"Yes?" She looked horrified.
"Don't tell me you're going with that outfit." I was wearing my grey shirt and black trousers with my white converse.
"What's wrong with it?"
"You're so good at styling me and other people but not yourself, May."
"Hm?"

"Your hair, your bag, your everything. It doesn't suit the place we are going to." Before I can counter, she scavenged her wardrobe. She pulled out a similar dress to what she was wearing but, this one had yellow flowers. She then dipped herself into the wardrobe and yanked a bunch of clothes. She gave me the dress, a black butterfly zip-up hoodie, the same cream leg warmers she had on, and a pair of black platform ankle boots.

"But isn't this copying you?" She frowned.

'No, we are matching.' I sighed. She skipped happily out of the room. I looked into the big mirror on her wardrobe, expecting to see a monster. Instead, I saw a girl. She looked like the person I wanted to strive to look like. Then I realized, I was looking at myself.

"I'm ready." The door slammed open.

"Wow... May, you look so pretty." She gave her radiant smirk again. For some reason, I felt offended. I have always seen her as the only person who deserved to be called pretty, not some random loser. But then, something clicked in my head. She doesn't look at me the way I see myself. She sees my potential. She knows me better than myself.

"Thank you, Rosie."

"No need." She grabbed my hands and ran out the door.