When you're frustrated with yourself, you really do wonder why you are who you are and why you make the mistakes you do. Overtime you get the feeling of not being able to love yourself, and it's not that other people can't love you when you don't, you just believe that no one ever will.

And, that's why I was so mad when I met you.

I hated your hair, I hated your eyes, your smile, your skin, your hands, your clothes and your everything. I hated it because I lived so long trying to be perfect and good at what I do but you were able to accomplish everything that I wanted without even trying.

But at the same time, I loved you.

I loved your silky hair that fell over your shoulders flawlessly, I loved your eyes that twinkled and lit up whenever you talked about something you loved, I loved your smile that would brighten anyone's day and turn your eyes into crescent moons, your soft skin and gentle hands that would hug me whenever you knew something was wrong, your clothes that always looked so good on you and everything else and more. I admired how you could finish things so easily and so nicely.

When I was with you I felt different than I usually did. I didn't feel as angry as I used to and I wasn't as emotionless as before. I started to fall for you.

But me being me, I distanced myself because I felt like being around you would hurt you, because all I could ever do was drag you down. I couldn't keep up with all you could do and everything that you were. I knew already that someone like you wouldn't like someone like me.

It was already stuck in my mind that no one could fall for me because I was just me. I didn't have perfect hair, I didn't have sparkling eyes and I had no smile. Instead I had messy hair that looked like I had pulled and tugged at my hair at night just to stop thinking about you and about everything. Instead I had dead eyes that stared at nothing while my mind traveled somewhere else. And in place of a smile, there was no frown, no smirk, no grin, nothing. There was nothing. There was no way for me to express myself and how I felt.

And if I couldn't be happy with myself, how would I be able to make you happy if you felt the same way? It seems like only you had the power to cheer people up and make them feel better. I was just a little more immune to it.

I'm not perfect.

But you are.