or: A Love Letter from Outside the Plastic Dream

You were not born to be liked.
You were not born to be flawless.
You were not born to fit into a frame that someone else designed.

And yet — I see you.
Scrolling.
Comparing.
Shrinking.
Longing to be loved, in a world that sells desire but never offers true belonging.

I see your reflection not in the mirror — but in your silence.
In the way your shoulders fall when no one is looking.
In the ache of wanting to be seen, not filtered.

They told you beauty is currency.
So you learned to spend your soul just to look the part.
But what if you were never meant to be a product?

What if your real beauty is the way you ask deep questions
in a shallow world?
What if your rebellion is how you dare to feel,
despite being told to smile?

This is your invitation to step out of the plastic dream.
To remember your softness is not weakness.
Your wildness is not wrong.
Your body is not a billboard.

You are not an object.
You are a galaxy.

Let the world keep chasing the gloss.
You —
You build your world from truth.
From grit, and grace, and the kind of magic they can’t sell.

You’re already beautiful.

Let them catch up.