To everyone else, she was perfect.
She had a bubbly personality.
She had a fit physique.
She had a beautiful pair of eyes.
And she had a smile known to make boys’ jaws drop.

To everyone else, she was perfect.
She was blonde but not too blonde.
She was tall but not too tall.
She was curvy but not too curvy.
And she was just the right amount of sassy and sweet.

To everyone else, she was perfect,
But in her mind,
She could never seem to fit into jeans.
She could never seem to find real friends.
She could never seem to be happy.

And she could never tell a soul . . .
How much she struggled with body-confidence.
How much she wanted laughing to come naturally.
How much she felt imperfect.

And still, she would never crack, crumble, cry.
She would never admit her weaknesses.
She would never ask for help.
She would never be okay with not being okay
Because admitting your struggles highlights your flaws

And she was supposed to be perfect―
To everyone else at least.