"When you're beautiful,"
She tells me. She whispers this to me at parties when I'm lonely, in a roomful of people. Her words fill the spaces and gaps between me and the person I'm in love with.
"Then you'll be enough. You won't be boring. She'll want to look your way twice. You won't feel like this."
"I don't think you're boring," he chirps, smiling.
I look up. Manage a smile. It feels like I'm wincing.
I think the situation is hilarious. But maybe the funny bits just haven't sank in yet.
"You won't have to feel like this. You won't feel like you could disappear into the walls. You won't feel like she doesn't notice you're there, even when you're reaching for her hand...
Sweetie, sweetie, it's very simple. I don't know why you haven't gotten it yet.
It'll all happen when you're beautiful.
Only when you're beautiful."
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