I have grand insecurities, but good self-esteem, if this makes any sense at all. Trust me, it took a lot to figure that one out. And when I find someone that I personally DO feel is beautiful and see these wonderful things inside of them, they never see it in me. Maybe I am too doe-eyed; to willing to see the best in a person; too ready to accept them for who they are and consider their flaws – as relevant as they are – perfection in their human existance. Perhaps I fall for people that are just out of my reach. Or maybe my helping people out so much while I put my personal problems aside just to assist them has made me a too-passive person, and I let people walk all over me. I do not understand this.

For every single person that I have felt something for, I have not gotten anything like that in return. I NEVER get anything in return. Is it really too much to ask that someone honestly think I’m beautiful? And beauty – what is THAT really. I mean it as a person, a human being. The kind of beauty that prose and oil paints were solely invented for – to help in recognizing and coveting it’s phenomenon. Not the ‘beautiful’ girls in magazines. But the beauty in a sunshine day, or in a truly loved stuffed animal. A special kind of beautiful. I want to be beautiful to someone inside AND outside. I am never the girl someone asks about. I have never ever had this.

This obsession of mine could go back to the song my dad wrote for me when I was born. It is called “Some Kind Of Beautiful”. He always used to sing it to me – and told me I was beautiful right up until the last time I ever saw him. That was the last time I have heard it, as well. And I think that it’s unfair that I feel this way. NO ONE should feel this way. Everyone should know and feel that they are beautiful. And honestly, I did once, and on some off-days I still do feel it – a little, anyway. And I tell myself “It’s ok, Ginger, just ‘cause he doesn’t think it doesn’t mean it isn’t true… we know who you are, and that’s what counts.” Yes, this does help incredibly. But when there is someone you see all this beauty in and they obviously don’t see it back over and over again, you start to really wonder how much you really DO have to offer. I mean, honestly. Is it SO much to ask that someone see, feel or think that I’m beautiful?

These are where my insecurities are. In a society like today it is hard for a girl like me to stay positive and press on. But I do – because I am strong. Because I believe that beauty comes in all forms. I have a wonderful family to thank for this. However, I am SO tired of crying each night before I go to sleep just wondering if he’s out there – that one special boy that thinks me as beautiful. I thought I had found him – the cure to my broken soul; someone who actually thought I was beautiful, and that I felt was beautiful, too. But I think I was wrong. I am yet again just another pawn in teaching a life-lesson. In my lifetime I have only truly liked four people. Some of which I still do. I seem to be attracted to people that do not help my insecurity. That do not know how to say “I think you’re beautiful” or – that do not want to. Maybe this feeling comes with love. I would just love to relate to the one line out of all the songs I have ever heard that has remained something that has stayed with me. This one line from “Unforgettable” by Nat King Cole – “It’s incredible that someone so unforgettable thinks that I am unforgettable, too.” It is so frustrating and deteriorating to my self-conception.

Maybe I just think too many things are beautiful. I can’t help that though – I cry when I see two people happy together because I am happy for them. It’s beautiful because it is genuine. I smile when my nephew repeats something his mother says. It’s beautiful because he is growing. I smile at that pink geranium. It’s beautiful because it blooms with all it’s might… and even when it begins to hang it’s head it still clings to it’s color. I cry when I hear soft acoustic guitar. It’s beautiful because it is so candid. And I cannot break from this angle of thinking- it is just a part of me.

And this is really hurting me. I feel very plain, I feel like a last choice. I will not develop an eating disorder or start wearing my hair differently. I will not change the wording in something I am about to say just because it seems like the more ‘attractive’ expression. I am going to remain this same exact person and write my endless self-tutorials and frustrated poems, heart bleeding songs and pass bitter thoughts that make me laugh out loud. I will still laugh at myself – my ability to laugh at myself is perhaps one of my saving graces. I will remain this way because this is how I WANT to be. This is the person that I want to be accepted. This is the person I have become that I am very proud of. THIS is the person that I want someone to think is beautiful. Why do the simplest things seem so unlikley sometimes.

*Sigh*. The boy that saves me from this terrible sinkhole will be my hero. He will be my hero forever. Where is he, my TRUE saving grace. Where is my superhero?