You remind me of an empty canvas.
Easily influenced by everything or everyone around you.
Leaving no room for yourself to breathe–
no room for yourself to grow.
It's pathetic, really. I mean, you practically hand others paint and brushes, pens and pencils, knives and fire.
You give them exactly what they need to make their impression on you.
You are a rare beauty, a canvas so clean, so pure, just waiting to be decorated. Yet you, you do not choose to decorate.
No. Instead, you let them, any of them, all of them, decorate for you.
And do they make you out to have the beauty you are meant to have?
No. Instead, they choose to decorate you with the most hideous colors, the most atrocious features, and the ugliest personality.
So that's who you are, right? The most hideous, atrocious, ugliest person?
Well, honestly, yes. At least that's all you allow yourself to be, so that must be all you deserve to be.
No longer are you an empty canvas waiting to flourish, but rather a paper full of scraps–
left behind by others who simply didn't want you.
- Kaliliko'okalani
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