...She was herself. Honest. Vulnerable. Her face was yours, but not transformed. Imperfect. Lovely. Beautiful. I loved her because she was you and I loved you because you were her.

...I used to look perfect. Golden perfect white skin, glowing eyes, luscious blonde hair, full lips... It was a hideousness. I hate it. It was a doll.

You were not a doll. You were something I could love.