sometimes I love you and sometimes I ask myself how I manage to love you, when I feel like you dislike me. Actually, I think I even forgot the meaning of “loving”. I wouldn’t “love” someone who yells. I wouldn’t love someone who makes my day worse. You hate my looks. I love my short hair. Why don’t you? You always make sure to bring up my teeth in every argument. Or maybe the way I hide in my room. Or when I recut my bangs. Yes, it sounds stupid, but it means a lot. I hope, mama, one day, you’ll find the beauty my friends found in me years ago.