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Day 246

Dear Grandad

I got a "Good morning beautiful" today. I can't remember the last time I actually read that, but I imagine it came from the same person.

It took me a moment to digest, and then I realized that I don't believe it. "Beautiful" - it doesn't sound real, it doesn't sound like me. It sounds the same as if somebody described me as green. I'm not green. And I don't think I'm beautiful either. Maybe it's just the saying he was replicating - if he saw me now his tune would surely change. I don't look the same, but that's probably a good thing.

"Beautiful". What makes somebody beautiful anyway? I don't want to wear makeup or short skirts. I wear bell bottoms and ponchos I crochet myself. I don't do much with my hair. I don't stand out or fit in at the same time. I'm this weird in between state. It's like purgatory between beautiful and ugly. Isn't that strange?

I remember you'd called me beautiful. You called me your princess. I miss those hugs where we would squeeze each other as hard as possible. Grandad hugs, we called them. You were beautiful, Grandad. Maybe one day I can be, too.

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