Herself.

There’s a girl who standing in front of the mirror. She was born somewhere in a small regency. She doesn’t have perfect skin colour nor beauty face at all. Her skin colour doesn’t fit the beauty standard. Sometimes she thinks that her face is so ugly. She was the girl with the broken smile. Her body is so skinny. She’s childish. She doesn’t like her own smile sometimes. She smiles and it looks weird. She’s impatient sometimes. She loves to do weird things. She loves to knit, cook her own reciples, eat chocolate, and a bunch of vegetables. Her happiness come from small things. She doesn’t like rice nor salted fish.

She’s weird. She’s awkward. Her laugh is too loud. She gets bored easily. A moody person, sometimes. She loves to write everything that she feel on her social media. She thinks she should stop because it’s annoying. She spend too much time and money on books; yep, she loves book that much. Her life driven by her dreams. She might not remarkably likable. She loses her confidence sometimes. And again, she’s trying her best. As always.

Long story short, She’s absolutely love herself. She has accepted every single part of her perfectly-imperfect life; good and bad, ugly and beautiful.

She’s proud to be herself.

And she is

me.

A girl who smiling

at the mirror

and so damn proud

with all part of

herself.

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