So she opened up her mouth and let her heart speak out
Pretty For a While.
Once there was a little girl named Ericka, whose world was filled with "I love you's" and hugs and kisses. Her parents told her every day how beautiful she was, and how no one else in this world was as adorable and special as she, and that every day she should be proud of herself, because she was in fact, Daddy's Tiny Dancer, and who couldn't possibly adore such a sweet girl as she?
Then there came a day where Ericka was surrounded by people she did not know; millions of tiny faces, some cute, some wretched, some normal and plain. She saw tons of little girls and heard lots of mommy's tell their daughters that they were beautiful and smart; she heard pet names she was called, but blew this off, claiming
"No matter, they stole it from my mommy; they're just jealous of how unique and pretty I am. They just aren't being original."
However, there came a shroud of faces, calling her ugly, calling her weird.
"No, you must be mistaken; I am not ugly. My Mommy and Daddy told me so. They're always right, you know, and therefore you've got the wrong girl. You should love me and be my friend," she offered with a friendly smile. But they insisted; they taunted, they teased and they criticized. In a world of no hugs and kisses, Ericka shrank into her self and hid in her heart, where eventually, even she began to doubt herself.
And then, as if on cue, her confidence died, abandoning her entirely, and Ericka no longer felt beautiful, special and unique. The little girl had grown into a shell of a being; an outcast, a stranger, an ugly girl.
Finding that no one could relieve her or reassure her, she looked for love anywhere she could, convincing herself that being with someone pretty would make her pretty, too, but you see; this is not true, and it failed her miserably, leaving her alone and unwanted; pretty people don't love ugly people, it's just not the order of things.
After a while she began to wonder if something was wrong with her; why did no one compliment her like they did all the other girls, with their caked on make up and false exterior? Why did no one appreciate her fitting clothes and unique style; Mommy and Daddy always said being unique was best, and Ericka knew how to be that, so why did no one like it? Why, also, did no one like her witty remarks, her quick quips, her black humour? In a series of downfalls, Ericka realized this was not what the world wanted, and therefore, the world did not want her. People came in and out of her life, claiming they adored her, but Ericka knew what it meant if someone told her that, and she knew it was set for failure, so she rejected any and all compliments; how rude is it, lying to a person with her stability?
But then there came a voice; a voice telling her you are beautiful, and I want you to hold my hand, and I will make up for all that the world's taken away from you. This person, whoever they were; they truly thought she was a pretty, unique and special as well as funny girl. They would relish in her individuality and become totally enamored with her heart. They did not need to say this to her, for she could tell. And then one day, right outside the door of her heart, she saw what the person she would begin to love had posted for her:
And suddenly, as if by magic, all the confidence was restored into her heart. Ericka felt pretty and adorable and cute and gorgeous and beautiful, and all the other words Mommy's and Daddy's call their sweet little girls; their Tiny Dancers. Ericka felt good. She felt like she should have from the beginning; she felt pretty. She didn't care if this were short lived, because at least she'd know what it was like. After all, she only wanted to be pretty for a while.
I decided to type the story of my life...
Plus, today, I asked the gangsters in my area something funny.
They always talk about how girls look 'good', so I asked them:
"Do I look good?" At this they paused and said,
"Nah" and at their faces, I could tell they saw my expression fall, but almost instantly they said,
"You're what we thug gents like to call beautiful" .
Yeah, it kind of made my day.
Once there was a little girl named Ericka, whose world was filled with "I love you's" and hugs and kisses. Her parents told her every day how beautiful she was, and how no one else in this world was as adorable and special as she, and that every day she should be proud of herself, because she was in fact, Daddy's Tiny Dancer, and who couldn't possibly adore such a sweet girl as she?
Then there came a day where Ericka was surrounded by people she did not know; millions of tiny faces, some cute, some wretched, some normal and plain. She saw tons of little girls and heard lots of mommy's tell their daughters that they were beautiful and smart; she heard pet names she was called, but blew this off, claiming
"No matter, they stole it from my mommy; they're just jealous of how unique and pretty I am. They just aren't being original."
However, there came a shroud of faces, calling her ugly, calling her weird.
"No, you must be mistaken; I am not ugly. My Mommy and Daddy told me so. They're always right, you know, and therefore you've got the wrong girl. You should love me and be my friend," she offered with a friendly smile. But they insisted; they taunted, they teased and they criticized. In a world of no hugs and kisses, Ericka shrank into her self and hid in her heart, where eventually, even she began to doubt herself.
And then, as if on cue, her confidence died, abandoning her entirely, and Ericka no longer felt beautiful, special and unique. The little girl had grown into a shell of a being; an outcast, a stranger, an ugly girl.
Finding that no one could relieve her or reassure her, she looked for love anywhere she could, convincing herself that being with someone pretty would make her pretty, too, but you see; this is not true, and it failed her miserably, leaving her alone and unwanted; pretty people don't love ugly people, it's just not the order of things.
After a while she began to wonder if something was wrong with her; why did no one compliment her like they did all the other girls, with their caked on make up and false exterior? Why did no one appreciate her fitting clothes and unique style; Mommy and Daddy always said being unique was best, and Ericka knew how to be that, so why did no one like it? Why, also, did no one like her witty remarks, her quick quips, her black humour? In a series of downfalls, Ericka realized this was not what the world wanted, and therefore, the world did not want her. People came in and out of her life, claiming they adored her, but Ericka knew what it meant if someone told her that, and she knew it was set for failure, so she rejected any and all compliments; how rude is it, lying to a person with her stability?
But then there came a voice; a voice telling her you are beautiful, and I want you to hold my hand, and I will make up for all that the world's taken away from you. This person, whoever they were; they truly thought she was a pretty, unique and special as well as funny girl. They would relish in her individuality and become totally enamored with her heart. They did not need to say this to her, for she could tell. And then one day, right outside the door of her heart, she saw what the person she would begin to love had posted for her:
And suddenly, as if by magic, all the confidence was restored into her heart. Ericka felt pretty and adorable and cute and gorgeous and beautiful, and all the other words Mommy's and Daddy's call their sweet little girls; their Tiny Dancers. Ericka felt good. She felt like she should have from the beginning; she felt pretty. She didn't care if this were short lived, because at least she'd know what it was like. After all, she only wanted to be pretty for a while.
I decided to type the story of my life...
Plus, today, I asked the gangsters in my area something funny.
They always talk about how girls look 'good', so I asked them:
"Do I look good?" At this they paused and said,
"Nah" and at their faces, I could tell they saw my expression fall, but almost instantly they said,
"You're what we thug gents like to call beautiful" .
Yeah, it kind of made my day.