That winged eyeliner, that 20$ mascara and those perfect eyes are not goals always, they’ve been smudged and spoiled at times. Those lips that wear perfect matt lipstick now, have felt dry and chapped when the rest of the face had wet tear drops everywhere. Every time she wiped her tears her blush would go away too. The actual beauty would grow dull each day, and it would only be covered with heavier layers of makeup each morning to show that everything was okay. The night face would intensely detest it’s own reflection. The fake layers of makeup would be back each morning, she would be goals but no one knew how dead she was beneath those layers. She saw her real dead face one evening and then it occurred to her what she had become. Her old self would have envied the present her. No, she did not want this. How did it all happen? The wave of change hit her and the deadness started to heal. It was done. She needed no fake layers to conceal her. She was there right before the mirror noticing herself and oh, did she love herself? Absolutely.